Shadow Sorcerer
by Cylent Dragon
Summary: Three years after the Tamuli, Talen ran away from the Pandion Chapter house. Danae has found him once more, but he's changed. With new powers awakened and loyalties divided, this crisis isn't just a personal one for Aphrael. Final Chapter and Epilogue up!
1. Prologue

AN: well, after receiving several requests, I figured that I should finish this. I always felt sort of bad for leaving the story unfinished, especially since I was on the last chapter. Considering that I wrote this years ago, my writing style has considerably changed and I am not happy with everything in the story, but rather than change things, I will simply go through, edit, and finish what I started. My sincere apologies to those who read this when it first came out, and also my thanks if you end up reading these updates.

Shadow Sorcerer

Danae almost leapt for joy when she saw him, standing in the deep shadows of the building. From what she saw of him, he had grown a bit taller, though not by very much. He was at least nineteen by now and had grown more muscular, although he was still very lean. He slouched with a kind of lazy grace against the building and was watching everyone. His dark hair had grown long, about shoulder length, but his calculating blue eyes were the same. And just in a quick instant, he was gone. The 13-year old princess of Elenia had blinked and he had misted away.

The princess sighed mournfully. Well, if he was going to be _that_ way about it.

Flute walked around the corner and was most pleased to find her intended victim leaning up against another wall, waiting for her as if he knew she was coming. The goddess felt a smirk of satisfaction creep onto her lips. She skipped happily up to him and noticed that she was still quite short as compared to him. He eyed her with a calm, steady look, knowing immediately who she was. She did wonder why he didn't smile though.

She looked up into his face. "Hullo, Talen"

He glanced down at her. "Hello Aphrael. I figured you'd be coming along to see me pretty soon, so I decided to make it easy for you and stay in one spot."

The child-goddess pouted a little. "You _knew_ I was coming? How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Aphrael, only a moron wouldn't see that you and Danae are the same person."

The child goddess was stunned. How could he speak to her that way?! Why was he being so cold? He must just be kidding around. A couple kisses and he'd be happy again.

"Don't you love me anymore?" Flute let her lip tremble a bit to add dramatic flare. She never got much resistance when she asked that question. She waited for his answer, poised to spring into his arms and plant kisses all over his face.

Talen looked down at her, a wistful look in his eyes, but his face still hard. "No, Aphrael. Not that way. Not anymore. I've changed Aphrael. It might be better if you just give me up. I'm not the boy you loved anymore. I've changed."

Flute was in shock. She had not expected this at all. How could he not even love her anymore? Was it because of age? Because she was a little girl in his eyes, instead of a woman?

"Is it because of this body?" she said quickly. She then continued before he could object. "Oh, I can change it you know. Sparhawk says I'm quite pretty in my real form. Would you like to see?" Talen didn't have time to say anything before the goddess actually started to change in front of him. The dark alley was lit up by her light. She stood before him, beautiful and lacking cloths. Aphrael had never done that before. She had never changed in front of someone, not even Sparhawk. But she could feel Talen slipping from her fingers and she was desperately trying to grab onto him before he was completely lost.

His face was still blank, as his eyes slowly looked her up and down. He didn't even blush like everyone else did when they saw her like this. Never had Aphrael felt so _naked_.

He simply gave her a once over and looked elsewhere, disinterestedly. "Is this what you want?" she asked hesitantly.

"No, Aphrael. I don't want you to look like a full woman. I don't want pleasure in the way you're offering. I could easily get it elsewhere. Aphrael, let it drop. Let me go. I'm too far-gone already. You just need to accept that."

Aphrael felt tears well up in her eyes. What had gone wrong? She had planned this out so carefully, and for all her planning, she was losing him. She thought, when he had first left the Pandion Chapterhouse in the middle of the night, that he just needed a break. Maybe go back to stealing for a bit and then come back to her. He had been doing so well.

Talen had excelled in all his studies. He was an excellent swordsman, though he preferred the lighter saber of the Peloi to the Pandion broadsword. Even though he was small, he also did well in the hand-to hand-combat course that the Atana Mirtai taught. Under Kring's tutelage he was a master at equestrian and with his quick mind the Strycium arts came easily to him. He had surpassed his half-brothers easily, though they seemed to have gotten along fine. He had been on his way to becoming the new Champion. After all, Elahna couldn't have children, so Sparhawk didn't have an heir. That meant no Royal Champion by his family.

But then Talen had left; quietly, alone, in the dark of the night. She had been most upset when she had first heard about it, but later convinced herself that he just needed a break. He had been gone for two years now, but still the goddess had told herself that he would come back, he just needed time. And then she could marry him.

"Talen," her voice came through, tear-choked. "What happened?"

"What happened?" A tight smile gripped his face. "I opened up my mind. Did you ever ask Sparhawk what it was like when Bhelliom infused him with those powers?"

Aphrael was slow to answer. "He said it was like a locked part of his mind was let out. Why?"

"I've unlocked my mind."

Aphrael blinked before her voice came out sharp. "Talen that's impossible. You can't just do that; you need someone to push you. Don't be silly. Now tell me what really happened."

"I am, Aphrael. I opened up that part of me. Why do you think you've had such a hard time finding me? Because I'm not using Styric magic anymore. I'm not praying to you anymore." He laughed ruefully. "That must have given you such pleasure. Having your….._crush_ pray to you everyday. Didn't you notice when I stopped?"

"Well yes, but….."

"You were still busy meddling. Waiting for me to come back. God, how you've meddled with my life. Controlled it with your mind, shaping everything to your own ends. You're very selfish, you know. But I'm not your plaything anymore; I won't just bend to your will. I'm tired of being meddled with. I want _my _life back. _I_ want to control my own destiny. I don't want to be played with by you gods who have nothing better to do. And what's happened, it's all _your_ fault. You stuck your hands in where they didn't belong and it drove me to try and gain control of _my_ life. Yes, Aphrael, I did love you, but I wanted to love you in my way, because I _wanted_ to love you. Not because you twisted my mind and heart and feelings around. So I tried to break free. Just enough so that I could know that I loved by my own choice. And now, I have powers I never wanted.

"And I'm not going to give them up, I'm not sure I know how to. But they're what's keeping me in control of my life."

Tears were running down the goddess's face. She had lost him, and he was right, it was all her fault. "Oh Talen, I'm so sorry!" She wailed miserably.

His voice was cold and hard. "I'm sure. Sorry that I'm not yours anymore."

"No Talen, not for that…I—" She leapt forward and kissed him hard on the lips, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him.

It was like he was a corpse. Even the gods were susceptible to her kisses, but Talen did nothing. He didn't react at all. Talen wasn't a god, he was still human, but a human with unlimited power. All his will had gone into staying out of her reaches, and he was right, he was too far-gone.

"Aphrael, I'm leaving now. Don't come after me. Don't get involved with me anymore. Just give up." Talen turned and walked away, leaving the goddess to sit and cry in the dirt.


	2. Dark and Light

Dark and Light

Sparhawk had noticed when the princess had quit paying attention to his discussion with her about Archplate Dolmant. It was too obvious when he suggested that she and all the other thousand of the Styric gods not visit the Basilica and she just nodded without any fight or argument at all. That by itself would not have worried him, because she often divided her attention to the other incarnations she took. What disturbed him was when she suddenly started whimpering and soon burst into tears. She would not speak to anyone and went to bed still sniffling from her original outburst.

This was a trip to Chyrellos for a reunion. They were going to meet their old friends from all over Eosia. Tynian and Ulath were making their way south and Bevier was traveling north. Kring and had been riding through Pelosia with Mirtai running beside him, complaining all the way about how the horse was too slow. Kalten, his fiancé Alean, Berit, Sparhawk, Kahlad, Elahna and Danae had reached Chyrellos quite a bit earlier because of the close proximity to the Holy city. Platime was in charge back in Cimmura.

But the Princess' sudden outburst dampened their good spirits. She was still in her rooms several days later when Tynian and Ulath arrived. The knights expressed their concern for Sparhawk's daughter and then got onto reminiscing, drinking, and plotting ways to introduce Bevier to Naween. The latter stopped as soon as Bevier was announced, though whenever they looked at each other wicked grins spread over their faces as they thought of ruining his innocence.

Elahna and Alean were complaining that Mirtai and Kring were taking too long and wishing that the Baroness and her husband Stragen were coming. They, however were busy scraping off the edges of every Tamuli gold piece they got their hands on and business was very pressing and traveling distances was expensive. The ladies retired as soon as Kring and Mirtai arrived, whisking away with girlish babble and Mirtai's demand to see her princess.

At first it was very quiet when they left, the men just taking each other in, eyes boring in to each other. Tynian was the first to break the silence.

"So, Sparhawk, how has royal life been? No crises? "

Sparhawk smiled and felt very ancient. "No, no, I'm far too old for that sort of thing now. Berit here just got back from Rendor though."

Ulath spoke up. "What's going on with all those sheep-herders?"

Berit shook his head ruefully. "They haven't come to a head yet, but there are more shepherds stomping their feet. Just rabble most likely, now that Martel's not there to cause trouble." He sighed. "Which just means I'll probably end up going back there and staying longer."

Sparhawk chuckled. "All in a knight's work. But Cimmura isn't that pretty a city and not all that exciting."

Bevier pressed on. "Surely there have been some happenings in Cimmura, what with all of you there."

Tynian cut in again. "Yes, speaking of which, where's Talen? I'd think that little rouge would have come even if Azash himself was here."

Ulath nodded quietly. "How's his training going?"

Sparhawk looked at them. "Actually…you've managed to hit our only sore spot. Talen left the Pandions two years ago, without telling anyone where he was going or why."

Tynian laughed. "Your daughter probably scared him off now that she's getting to that age. She's had her eye on him for as long as I can remember!"

They all smiled as the memory of Danae firmly declaring she would marry Talen in front of all of them and his startled, almost panicked reaction. Kring cut in. "And friend Kalten, how are you and Alean getting along?"

Tynian joined. "Yes, you had better not have married her without inviting us along to laugh at—I mean congratulate you." He grinned in his irresistible way.

Kalten looked down and blushed. "No, not yet…we'll do it soon. As soon as Elahna gave her that title, she stopped shying away from marriage and I started. Think of what I'll have to give up…it'll be worth it of course, but…"

Bevier looked confused. "I don't understand. What would you have to give up?"

Ulath grinned. "Don't worry Bevier, we'll show you what he's missing. Sparhawk, you have to invite us all back to Cimmura to visit."

Tynian finished. "We have to introduce good Bevier here to your friend Naween."

"I would love to meet any friend of yours, Sparhawk." Bevier said with sincerity. There was collective sniggering from around the table.

Tynian patted the knight on the shoulder. "Oh, I think you two will get along just fine."

They talked late into the night before heading up to soft beds and a good night's rest.

________________________________________________________________________

Miles away, in Cimmura, Talen lay in the midst of sheets with the said friend, Naween. He had never been with a girl before, but he knew of Naween's reputation, being the one to introduce Sparhawk for the first time. His sweat was hot on his body and he desperately wished for a window to be open, though no one wanted to smell the wet streets of Cimmura.

The thing was, Talen wasn't here because of some need or wish deep within himself, but for distraction. He didn't want to think of anything, didn't want to dwell on his newfound power or especially his anger towards Aphrael.

He lay there for a while, brooding in the dark, till Naween, sat up a bit, bare breasts pressed to his chest. "Something wrong?"

Talen smiled and reached a hand up to fondle her hair. "No. Just thinking. That's why you're here, to keep me from doing that."

"Well, in that case…" She moved up and kissed him hard and passionately, melting away all comprehensive thought.

________________________________________________________________________

Sometime later Talen walked through the gritty streets, rain making his black cape heavy and his hair stringy. His half boots were slick and the plain gray tunic and leggings he wore were non-descript so as not to attract attention. Talen knew he was being followed by at least one or two thieves. That was good though, because it meant they didn't recognize him. A child wandered towards him, moving slowly and seemingly aimlessly.

He would have simply passed him by, but right as the boy was parallel, he made a discreet feel for Talen's purse, and something else. He felt a slight tug at his mind, or rather, a blanketing of his senses. Had it been a normal person the boy's ploy would have worked, but Talen was far from normal when he was just a thief. Now, with Styric, Pandion, and his own new talents, he was very hard to fool.

Just as the boy's hand slipped into his cloak to grab his purse, Talen grabbed him with just as much agility and held him firmly to keep the young boy from running away. The boy didn't make a sound as he tried to slip away, but stopped as soon as he realized he could not break Talen's hold. Instead he stood still and looked at his captor.

Talen knew they shouldn't stay out in the streets so he quickly led the complacent boy to a small niche in the row of buildings that was designed for thieves to hide in. When he was sure they were away from prying eyes he took time to look at his captive.

The boy was small, perhaps ten or eleven, though maybe even twelve, just smaller than normal from malnutrition. His face was dirty and his hair long, oily and tangled. The thing that struck Talen was that the boy was only half Elene. The other side of his parentage was obviously Styric.

Most of these half-breeds lived in Zemoch and were known for the repulsive mix of features from both races. This boy however, was exquisitely beautiful. His hair was black and was a little past his shoulders and he had dark eyes to match. His skin, though dirty, was pale as ivory and he had high cheekbones and a face etched with elegance. His body was thin but muscular and his hands and fingers seemed elongated and graceful; perfect for thieving.

Talen was fascinated by all these things, but the thing that griped him most was that the boy had used magic without the gestures or words of Styric magic and he hadn't made the telltale noises of using that power. Talen looked closely at his captive.

"How did you do that, boy?"

The boy just gazed up at him, most likely waiting for a blow to rain down on him because he did not answer. Talen smiled softly. "Listen to me. You have a great power. Don't waste it on the streets, just keeping yourself alive." Talen could here footsteps coming towards them and he look quickly around before crouching down next to the boy again. "Meet me at dusk at the corner before the entrance to Platime's place. There we can talk and I'll buy you something to drink. Besides," Talen stood up and tossed a purse the boy had had tucked in his belt. "I think you'll be wanting this back."

Talen wrapped his cloak around him tighter and walked out into the street and didn't look back. But he hoped that the boy would come.

It was dark and still rainy as Talen leaned up against the corner. The streets had that familiar stench to them and Talen almost welcomed it. As soon as he had gotten back from Tamuli after the incident with Cyrgon he had been put into his noviate back in Demos where the motherhouse was. When he had run away he had gone first to Pelosia, mostly because there weren't a lot of people or towns so there would be fewer thieves to identify him. After that he had traveled across Zemoch in an effort to get to Delphaeus. There he hoped to learn to control his powers better. If the Shining Ones had used magic for centuries without the instruction of a god, then they must have some instructions to teach their children with.

While he was passing through Zemoch however, he met several Styrics and Zemochs that way-laid him a bit. He had met them one at a time and a plan formed in his mind as he listened to each of their stories.

The first of them was a Styric who, like many Styrics, seemed ageless. He looked to be about thirty, though Talen doubted he was anywhere near that young. The man, called Nyph, had first tried to rob him in the Zemoch Mountains. It had appeared that Talen was surrounded by at least two-dozen men, but something felt wrong. He had been able to pinpoint Nyph and directed a huge surge of energy at him, knocking him out. When the Styric awoke, Talen found out that he was a master illusionist, as well as a rebel Styric, cast out by his people. Nyph drew his power from a lesser god named Fron, though Talen thought Fron might be more of a spirit or fairy than a god. Fron apparently didn't have many morals and spent most of his time sleeping with Zemoch girls and eating. He let Nyph have free reign with his powers. Nyph was amazed at Talen's powers and asked to come with him, almost as a disciple. He was a desperate man, but bent on repaying his master for his kindness and protection. Fron didn't seem to care about getting more worshipers, but Nyph felt the need to repay his god.

The next person of note Talen had met was Hiren, a feminine boy of indeterminable parentage with an affinity for nature. Zemoch was now a barren wasteland after Azash was destroyed, though it was never much to begin with in the first place. Talen and Nyph had been traveling north to avoid people when they had entered into a wood in full bloom, although it was hardly spring. They had found Hiren, who also was much older than he seemed, but retained a child-like innocence. He had hair so pale it could be considered white, but his skin was darker than a Tamul's, more brown than golden. He claimed to serve earth spirits, and wherever he walked, plants would bloom and flourish. He had first come to them, informing them that he had been seen their coming and would travel with them. He told them that his people, his whole race, had been destroyed by zealous Zemochs, bent on pleasing Azash.

The third person was another Rebel Styric. Elith looked a bit older, only a few years younger than Sparhawk, and decrepit, but had hidden strength in him, for he was a necromancer. He had come to them in the middle of the night and asked to come along. Elith did not say whom he served or why he had come, but brought the idea of a land for the free. He was a quiet man, though not so much as Hiren. But once the idea was out, Nyph accepted it without question, and convinced Talen that he had enough power to make that happen, to free these people from the powers of Gods they did not want, or let them worship others without persecution. That night the four of them began to make their plans, detailing out what they wanted and brainstorming on how they would do it. Elith said he knew of someone who could no doubt help them and would take them to see the person.

Talen had been surprised to find the 'one who could help them' was a woman. Zi'yal was a mind reader, and could foretell some of the future, though not even the gods could see it clearly. Zi'yal's trick was not to focus on the things that would alter the powers of the world as the gods did, but on small details that were simple, but important in the whole. Zi'yal was a tall dark Zemoch, who was very alluring in appearance, contrary to the Elene belief that all of the race were ugly. She served the goddess Savin of Zemoch, who, as far as Talen could tell was like a goddess of love, though, he thought, perhaps passion might fit better.

When they had crossed out of Zemoch they made their way up to the hidden city of Delphaeous where they stayed several months while Talen seeped himself in all the learning he could glean. When they left they heard of one who bought and sold information. Having been secluded from the world for months now, Talen had gone to see him to find out what was going on.

It appeared that someone had put out information about Talen himself because he was ambushed after talking to the information seller, a Tamul called Lestav. Talen quickly defeated his attackers and then stormed back to kill the informant. To protect himself, Lestav used telepathic powers to control that of a passer buyer and fought with Talen. When the Tamul realized that Talen was a class above, he quickly surrendered. Talen didn't want to kill the man because of his unique powers and so took Lestav with him. Lestav soon decided to join them willingly and the six had headed back to Cimmura to organize themselves.

Talen shivered in the rain. So now they had to decide where this rebellion would begin. The other five had gone to rally followers to them and tonight they would meet to set out definite plans. Talen glanced at the cloudy sky darkening with night. He couldn't wait much longer. Just as Talen made ready to leave, he heard raised voices. He ducked around a corner and saw two men dragging the dark haired boy he had met earlier across the street. One of the men cursed him and hit him hard across the face. The boy did not make a sound. Talen stepped forward.

"What's this about?"

One of the men glared up at him "Not that it's any of your business, stranger, but this little brat," he kicked the boy. "Lost something of ours."

"Something like this?" Talen asked as he tossed the purse he had stolen off the boy up and down in his palm. The men gaped at him in shock. Talen punched one man in the face while raising his leg up and squarely kicking the other. A move like that would have made most men loose their balance, but Talen had had good training. He then grabbed the collars of the men's shirts and dragged them towards the entrance to Platime's basement. The boy followed along behind. The man at the entrance bared the way.

"Let me down." Talen growled, in no mood to be trifled with. He knew this would alert everyone who was looking for him that he was in Cimmura. Now even a thief wasn't safe because of the alliance that had come about between the criminal network and the royals.

"Why should I?" the guard growled. "I don't recognize you."

Talen glared at him. "But you no doubt recognize these two." He held up the men. "Now let me down. As you can see my hands are full so I won't be signaling anyone anytime soon. I have matters to discuss with Platime. Now let me through."

The guard looked startled. "He's not here anyway."

"Then go get a carriage and bring him from the palace. Look, I obviously know where he is and who he is, now go get him or I will get very angry, very quickly." Talen's face grew very dark and the guard could sense his dangerous tone. He knew Talen meant what he said. He gulped audibly and nodded quickly.

"Uh, come with me sir, and we'll get you situated and bring Platime to you. Right this way sir." The guard led him down the flight of steps and into the large room filled with whores, murderers, thieves, and beggars. The guard left him and went to talk to some other people, most of whom Talen recognized. From time to time they would glance over at him until a couple left the room and headed to where Talen knew the stables where located. Talen sat the two men down on a bench and stood over them while they glanced miserably at each other and sulked. The small boy stood beside Talen silently.

The hall was still filled with talking and laughter, but everybody glanced at Talen and his captives once and a while, all a little on the edge. He had known these people most of his life and they couldn't even recognize him. Most looked very much the same, but Talen knew his appearance was very different than what they remembered of him. If he had asked them to describe a boy named Talen, they would probably list him as thin and short with tousled dark brown hair and quick darting blue eyes. Now he was taller, though not by too much and he would not grow anymore. His hair had grown darker, almost black now, though it's original color still shown through in direct sunlight. His eyes were still blue but now they were steady and calm. He had also grown muscular in his training as a knight.

When Platime entered half an hour later, the hall abruptly got quieter. The overweight lord of thieves took his customary seat, though he no longer wore the stained yellow doublet. Talen jerked the men to their feet and they yelped and whimpered till he fixed them with an icy glare. The half Styric boy followed behind him. Platime was not happy about being disrupted and looked at Talen. "What do you want?"

"My Lord Platime, these men of yours--they are yours, correct?" Platime nodded wordlessly. "--Were beating this boy for loosing a purse that he had stolen. Now, it is my understanding that you will not allow this sort of behavior among your underlings. Take these men," he tossed the two on the floor before him. "And punish them accordingly. I am taking the boy."

Talen started to turn but stopped when Platime began to speak. "How did you get in here in the first place? I don't recog…" He trailed off mid sentence. "Talen?" he asked incredulously. Audible gasps were heard around the room. Talen nodded his head differentially.

"And now, my Lord Platime, you will excuse me. I am late as it is and must be going." He turned on his heel and strode through the room, the boy trailing after him and Platime calling after him.

"Talen wait! The princess-- " Talen didn't wait to hear any more, simply walking out of Platime's place and out onto the streets of Cimmura, heading towards the inn where he was staying. The boy walked quietly beside him.

They walked straight to the taproom and Talen ordered a meal for the young boy and a glass of Arcium Red for himself. They sat in silence a long time before Talen spoke, "What's your name boy?"

The boy just shrugged.

"I know you can talk, boy, and if you don't have a name, choose one."

"I don't know yet." The boy replied, his voice a soft, smooth one.

Talen did not know exactly what to make of that response, but continued on in his discussion with the boy. "People fear you, don't they? That's why they treated you that way."

The boy nodded.

"Would you be interested in helping me and some friends overthrow a couple different established religions and creating a land where you wouldn't be treated like this?" Talen smiled at the absurdity of what they were trying to do. A small, barely noticeable smile flickered on the boy's face.

"Sure."

Talen doubted the boy really knew what he had just agreed to, but that was hardly the point. "Alright. We have a meeting to get to. Then we'll come back here before leaving town." They got up from the table and Talen left money to pay before they left the inn and headed to the stables.

Talen's horse was a big black stallion named Knightmare; his name showing Talen's somewhat warped sense of humor. He wasn't really all that mean, just wary of strangers. Once he knew you he was affectionate almost to the point of overbearing. Talen walked up and stroked his nose.

"Knightmare, I want you to meet my friend here. He doesn't have a name as good as yours, he doesn't have a name at all yet, but he's going to be ridding you now, and I want you to treat him just like me, understand? Good." He stroked the horse once more before kissing it softly on the top of his nose. "Here," he said to the boy. "Stroke his nose and let him get to know you." The small boy walked up and let the horse sniff him and soon Knightmare was nuzzling his head while Talen tacked him up.

"Okay, c'mon. Can you mount?" the boy seated himself in the saddle, though the stirrups were a bit long and made it more difficult. Talen swung up behind him and nudged the stallion out of the courtyard and into the streets. They rode at a trot until they reached the gate and the guardsmen let them out after a few questions. Talen told him they would be back later on so they wouldn't have problems getting in again. When they had left the city he moved Knightmare into a full gallop and did not stop until they were outside a small roadside inn by a small town a few miles outside of Cimmura.

Talen talked shortly to the innkeeper and they were soon led to a small back room where the others waited. They all looked up as he entered. Lestav glanced at the boy. "Who's this?"

"My servant. I need someone to look after all the details since I'm so busy." He smiled lopsidedly. However serious he had seemed to Aphrael, Talen had not lost his humor. It was dampened, but still there and smiles were not so very rare on his face, though they could darken in an instant.

Zi'yal, dressed in a loose yet sensuous dress, smiled slightly, her dark red lips pouting. "To the Elenes you are a wolf in sheep's clothing. Now you have a raven following you to eat the carrion you leave behind."

"That's a somewhat gruesome description, don't you think, Zi'yal?" Hiren said quietly.

"Perhaps," She crooned. "But true all the same. Talen is a wolf, herding these helpless sheep to his plans. He is our pack leader and is trying to get us a territory where we loners may live according to our wishes in peace. The boy's hair is black as a bird's feather and he follows the wolf wherever he goes, because the wolf provides for him. Soon the raven will begin to warn the wolf when others approach and guide him to more food." Zi'yal suddenly tossed her head. "Sorry. I don't know what got into me."

"Never mind." Nyph cut in. "We're here to decide where we are going to start."

"Yes." Elith agreed. "We can contemplate wolf and raven metaphors all we want, but if we are ever to have that territory, we must act soon."

Lestav got out a map. "I think the best place to begin would be Rendor. They are already in a state of rebellion; they have been for the past hundred years or more. It's also not on the mainland of Eosia, so troops aren't all that easy to move there."

"But," Nyph interrupted. "Because they've been rebelling for centuries the Elene Church has Church knights over there already. We'll have to deal with forces already entrenched into the land."

Lestav interrupted right back. "However, the Church knights are universally despised, the people would welcome deliverance from the church.

"The people are also all zealous bigots who kill anyone who doesn't believe what they do. They're all fanatics." Elith growled. "Especially towards Styrics."

Zi'yal spoke up. "What about Zemoch? It doesn't have any set religion right now, most of us were able to live there without constant threat."

Hiren's normally happy face darkened. "They killed everyone of my race, and you call that living?"

Zi'yal snapped back. "That was when Azash was alive. That won't happen anymore."

"Yes, Zemoch would work. It is a place untouched by the Elene faith."

Nyph shook his head. "No, that wouldn't work. The people are scared and half-witted. They can't think for themselves any longer, they just follow whoever has the greatest chance of winning. I say Thalesia. Look, the people up there already half pray to the troll gods and they're separated from the mainland of Eosia. It's got all the advantages of Rendor without the concentration of the Church. They wouldn't even be expecting one of their own to break away and then they'd be fighting on two fronts."

"It's too cold there." Hiren complained. "My spirits won't like it there. Nothing will grow."

Zi'yal looked at him. "Rendor's a desert, how is it going to be any better? You did fine in Zemoch."

Lestav sighed. "Thalesia? You've got to be kidding. It may not be the focus of the Church right now, but think about how Gendians fight! They're used to battling Trolls and Ogres! And the people don't need to be delivered because the Church lets them get away with their side trips to the Troll Gods."

"Rendor just isn't doable! We can't face the whole church head on like that. It's too much trouble. We're better of fighting the Ogres by ourselves!" Nyph declared.

All five broke into pitched squabbling and voices were raised higher and higher until Talen slammed his hand onto the table. The room was filled with silence almost as deafening as the yelling had been.

Talen's voice was soft but hard, it held authority that no one dared challenge in it. "This isn't about your petty preferences. This isn't about just getting a piece of land or being able to hurt the church of the Elenes. This is for all peoples, all religions. That's why we are here. Not to fight the Elenes, but to fight all who oppress us, be it Elenes, Styrics or otherwise. We can't just shy away because it is hard." He paused, looking all of them in their eyes. "We will free Rendor."

They remained quiet, absorbing Talen's order. No one dared to contradict him. Elith looked up. "It is decided then."

Nyph poured six glasses of wine, and then one more for the boy as an after thought. No one objected. If Talen brought him to this meeting, he was one of them, an adult capable of making his own decisions. If he was man enough to make that choice, he was man enough to have a proper drink. All seven lifted their glasses. Talen spoke softly, "To Rendor."

The rest echoed and then drank. "To Rendor."


	3. Rebel Prophets

Chapter 2

Rebel Prophets

The trip from Coombe to Jiroch was smooth, easy, and quick; much faster than the Church knight's route because they took a longer route from a bigger city instead of using the main, but relatively forgotten Coombe.

The group of religious rebels soon found that using Rendor would be every bit, if not more so , as hard as Talen had predicted. However, no one dared challenge Talen's authority. He was their leader, he was the heart of the quest and no one felt their hardship was worth calling off the goal. That or they took to mind that while Talen was kind, funny, and as honest as a thief could be, they also knew that he was stubborn and could sometimes take…violent action against those who threatened something he cared for.

True to form, the people of Rendor were not the brightest and the very recent death of Arashram had dampened any rebellious feelings. On the outside at least; there were always rebellious feelings somewhere in Rendor.

Most people still were more worried about what their neighbor was doing wrong than anything else, freedom included. Rendors were always uppity since the Eshandist heresy, but it took years to get them to a place where they would actually stand up and fight.

Talen knew this. He had to do _something _in his Pandion training, and history had always fascinated him. Talen knew that most revolts took years, if not decades, to gain any momentum and he knew that they all started out in the desert with the nomads. And no one paid the nomads any attention at all.

So Talen decided to mix things up a bit. He was going to get a revolt going in a few months, and he was going to start with the white-robed city-dwellers. He had immediately dispatched his companions to contact the respected elders of Rendor society with the bait of getting on an unknown powerful person's good side and rising in power. They were instructed to bring at least ten righteous followers to the meeting. Talen knew most Rendors would not take to the idea at all, so he had to get as many to hear his plan as he possibly could. And tonight was the night.

Talen shifted in his black cloak, trying to keep warm after the desert sun had set and the chill of the night had kept of the city of Dabour. He had chosen the inland city because there were still relatively few Elenes in the city since Arashram had led his uprising.

Talen shivered once more and walked down the street to the doorway that men had been continuously entering an hour before. It was crowded in the large house he had purchased for his purposes, the whole first floor filled and the stairway and open hallways on the second floor brimming with people. The air was hot and it smelled of the three hundred-odd shepherds that filled the place. Both white robed city people and a handful of the black-clad nomads were in the room, making sure that the word of what was going on would get spread to more than just one or the other.

In the center of the lower room stood Nyph, though one could not tell it was him because of the way the master of illusions had altered his features. He was there to guide the direction of the conversation, but not to lead it. All of them had carefully gone over what they wanted to have said and all were positioned to shout out certain things at the right moments. Even Zi'yal was there, but her appearance and even her voice was also disguised so no one could tell she was a woman.

Nyph cleared his throat several times and the room slowly grew silent in expectant of what was going to be said. Nyph stood up tall as he delivered his speech.

"Fellow Rendors, lords of the desert," The nomads murmured approvingly, "Righteous men of faith, true followers of God," A roar of agreement broke out as the words were spoken and Nyph waited till all were silent before continuing. "Oppressed of the Elenes." Loud shouts suddenly arose in protest. Nyph raised his voice. "Yes! I say oppressed of the Elenes! Not because I want to, but because it is true!" he paused and looked around the room, but no one made a sound. Talen made a tight-lipped smile. Nyph continued at a much faster pace now. "Look at yourselves! So proud are we that we know the true way, that God sent an enlightener to us, that we might know the truth! And…and yet we are oppressed. We are an occupied land; we are humiliated in front of our wives! Our children are brought up in a false and oppressive church, and told that what their father's believe is heretical!" He stopped for a moment, breathing hard, and paced up and down his small clearing.

"And we, we 'holders of the truth', what do we do? We rise up every three decades, get our goats in a huff, stampede about and quiet back down as soon as the Elenes show a hint of bringing over armed forces. Until then, we just sit and argue philosophy and point fingers at each other because our neighbor failed to follow through some obscure religious ritual." By now Nyph was so into his act that he was shaking with what seemed like rage and his face had gone what might be considered an unhealthy shade of red. "We are so concerned with our religious differences with the Elenes and each other that we forget that we are not just a faith, but a people! And our people are being suppressed. And we do nothing!"

Zi'yal stood up on cue and shouted "What, you want us to abandon our Faith! Just let others tell us how to believe, how to worship _our_ God?"

Nyph looked up at her and smiled grimly. "No. You are right; that is the last thing I want to happen. I am a faithful servant of God, and I firmly believe that we are a chosen people. But, unless we join now, and are united without squabbles amongst ourselves, we can do nothing."

Now Lestav yelled. "But what about the heretics!"

Nyph turned to him, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "What about them? We push them off our land, get our freedom, what do we care about them after that?"

Now and young man stood up. "We must convert them to the true way! If they will not willingly come to the truth, they must be killed! Killed before their heresy spreads more!" The whole room erupted into chaos, people were yelling wildly and no one could understand anyone at all. Talen was almost tempted to make them quiet down by using his magic, but decided against it. Before this meeting Elith had suggested using a mind trick to get them all to accept what they were saying but Talen had objected. If they were going to free Rendor, the Rendors would do it of their own free will. Eventually the room quieted down till there was silence. Nyph was about to speak out again when another man stood up with the assistance of two others. The man was at least ninety years old and was obviously blind and possibly crippled.

Though the man was old, his voice rang out strong. "Don't you see? We are tearing each other apart for the Elenes. At the rate we're going, they won't have to do any work for themselves. And if we choose to force them to convert, we will be no better than they. No, worse than they, we shall be hypocrites!"

The tension in the room suddenly surged forward and broke as several dashed forward to kill the man for speaking so. More rushed at him and the elder's people gathered around to protect him. Nyph jumped on a banister railing, shouting for quiet. "See, see what I mean? We kill each other off! Now if we open our land as a place where, where anyone can worship however they please, be it, Elene, Rendor or, or even Styric, won't that be better? Our lands will not be taken, a faith will not be persecuted and our culture will not be destroyed! Stand up, start a new power, a new way of life!" he grasped his hand into a fist and shook it. "A way of life that can succeed, not just fight losing battles every twenty years!

People began to yell again but no one could tell if it was in approval or in anger. The chaos was so great that some began to draw blades and advance on both the elder speaker and Nyph. The sorcerers all looked from one to another, this time fear showing on their faces. This wasn't going at all as planed. It took them all by surprise when the crowd fell to a sudden and definite silence. All heads swerved to the back.

Talen, who had been in the back on one of the balconies, began to walk down to the floor, using the air as calmly as if it was a staircase. Still walking on air, he approached the scene of the commotion. One man had a knife pressed up against the older speaker's throat. Talen grabbed at the man, but he stepped quickly aside before drawing a short, curved sword from its scabbard. The man lunged quickly at Talen, shouting something about witchcraft. Almost fast than the eye could see, Talen unsheathed his own blade, a Peloi saber. They clashed in the silence, blades screaming against each other and sparks flying as the metal slid together. Talen twisted his blade in a spiral around the man's hand, locking the sword. He yanked and the sword flicked easily out of the other man's hand. Talen swiftly caught him in a hammerlock hold and pressed his slightly curved weapon against the man's exposed throat. Their breathing was hard and loud in the quiet room. Everyone else collectively held their breath.

Slowly Talen relaxed and let the blade drop. He stepped back from the badly shaken man. Five others now rushed towards him, accusing him of witchcraft. Talen simply raised his hand and with a flick of his wrist sent the men flying through the air to slam against wall. H glared around the room.

His voice came out low and gruff. "I could easily kill all of you…surely you don't really deserve life, bigoted as you are. Can't you see what you've become, how you've been trampled on? And so for a while you will stand and act brave but when something bad happens, you just run off with your tail between your legs like the dogs you are! You're so busy spying on each other and claiming 'witchcraft' that at this rate, you'll never be free. And if you were free, you'd be just as bad as the Elenes, forcing other's to follow your religion when they don't want it. Are you that stupid?

"I… I am here to create a land where no man will be forced to another's faith. I could have chosen anywhere to do this, but I chose Rendor. I chose it, not because it will be easy, because it won't be, but because I thought you had spirit. I thought you would see the good in what we are doing and rise up and help. And what do you do? Squabble some more. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

The room remained quiet.

Talen shook his head. "You disgust me." He stormed out of the building and into the desert night. The half-styric boy stepped in stride with him and the walked away from the meeting, neither saying a word.

__________________________________________________________________

The room where Talen lay was dark, the shadows deepened by the dying fire flickering in the night. Talen lay on a pile of sheepskin in the basement of a merchant's home, playing with the smoke that filled the room because of the lack of a chimney. His fingers moved in intricate patterns that shaped the fluid smoke into hauntingly insubstantial images from his past memories. There in shadow and smoke was formed Platime's cellar, where he had first met Sparhawk. He looked on with a small smile as he made the images walk along the smoke-streets of Cimmura to the brothel where they had met Naween.

He moved on, recreating the journey to find the Bhelliom and then destroy Azash. Talen replayed the death of his father in the air and his own revenge. His face showed no emotion as this happened and he replayed it again. And again. Still, nothing remotely resembling sadness or grief touched his features. For a long time, the mere thought of the incident would bring a sharp pain to his heart. But now…nothing. He watched his twelve-year-old -self stab the lumbering man who had killed Kurik. He couldn't even remember his name now. He looked on dispassionately as his younger self mangled the body, stabbing it over and over again, tears streaming down his young face. Nothing reflected that pain on the present Talen's face. It was like he was watching some odd drama on a stage, a dream that never really happened.

He moved on, now to the recent adventures in Tamuli, the trip over every passing moment it seemed. He reached the retrieval of Bhelliom. Though the killing of his father brought no emotion to the surface, or even out of the subconscious, the memory of Aphrael walking out into the air and himself jumping after her brought stinging tears to his eyes. He quickly blinked them back. What was that stupid goddess to him now? Naught but a memory, he prayed silently in his head. But he knew, in his heart, that it wasn't true. He no longer held any feelings for her other than contempt, but she was not just a memory. None of them were.

Though Talen had told Aphrael to stay out of his affairs, to not get involved with him, he knew she would not leave him alone. She could not. All of them would be caught up in his plans, and some might even die, maybe by his own hand. But he was in the right and there was nothing they could do about that.

More tears threatened to flow and Talen glared hard to try and keep them at bay. Just as a single tear welled over his eye and ran down his cheek, someone opened the door to his room. He turned savagely, the solitary tear dripped of his chin but the trail remained, reflection the firelight that gave a gold cast to it. "What is it?" he said sharply.

The small boy stepped through the door. Talen sighed in some relief, not wanting the other sorcerers to see him like this. His face softened and he smiled slightly. "We need to get you a name."

The boy looked up at him, slightly surprised. "I have a name."

Talen's eyebrows arched in over-animated surprise. "Really. What is it and when did you acquire it?"

"The Zemoch. She named me."

"What?"

"You were there. I am Raven. You are Wolf."

Talen smiled softly, thinking the boy's directness charming but foolish. His speech was the act of a child, not someone who should be caught up in this.

"Well then Raven, what brings you to my quarters?"

"Two men are here to see you. They will join you. "

"Then by all means, send them in."

"They are at the front gate, Nyph will lead them in."

"Then I best be somewhat presentable." Talen stood up and brushed his black robes to straighten them out. He smiled ruefully and turned to Raven. "See what being with Pandions has done to me? I'm actually somewhat respectable. Oh well, can't be helped now I suppose." He casually waved a hand as he moved towards the fire and the smoke immediately dissipated, seeping through minute cracks in the walls to escape to the outdoors.

There was a quiet, respectful knock at the door.

"Come." Talen called.

Nyph opened the door and two other men stood with him. One was tall and had his hair wrapped in a black turban and his inset eyes sparkled with intelligence. His beard was trimmed to a neat point and he had a thin mustache. The other was shorter and had a full beard and a small hat atop his head. Nyph stumbled over his words, unsure of how to address Talen in front of these men. "Uh. Talen sir, these two men, Kaalb and Jiron, are here to speak with you."

"Very well." Talen turned to face them, his back to the now blazing fire. "Come in gentlemen. What have you come for? Let us get straight to the point."

One man, Kaalb, stepped forward. "How should we address you Holy One?"

Talen let his grave face break into a witty smile. "I am not holy to you, nor any different then you yourselves are. You may call me Talen. Now, what have you come to speak to me about?"

The other man spoke up now. "Ah, Talen-sa'hidi, we were at the meeting tonight. We heard what your men said and saw what you did. We believe you are right. Both of us are new leaders in our respective groups and have different ideas than most of our elders and peers. We wish to join you. We will help you throw off the yoke of the Elenes. Not just of their church."

Talen looked at them closely. "How many are there of you?"

The taller man sighed. "Together, only about a hundred of us."

Jiron piped up. "But we will work hard for this cause, we will more than make up in spirit."

Talen nodded. "Yes, of course. It's more than we had before, and every little bit will count. Do your men have families?"

Kaalb spoke. "Some. But all are willing to risk their lives for this. Even some of the women."

Talen arched one eyebrow. "You have interesting customs for a Rendor."

The man smiled tentatively. "We are a small group, Talen-sa'hidi, who do not live in the past like the rest of our people. We advance, we wish to be free. You…you will not find many like us."

Talen smiled broader now. "Don't worry, I'll put your number to good use. What I have in mind is best done with smaller numbers. Are you in any rush to be back to your homes, or would you care to stay awhile and we can discuss plans?"

"Oh, " said Jiron. "We have until the Elenes are gone."

Talen smiled, sat down and leaned back with his hands behind his head. "Well in that case, have a seat, for I fear we might be here for some time, though the deadline has just come a lot closer than it was five minutes ago."


	4. First Strike, First Casualty

Chapter Three

First Strike, First Casualty

By the time the meeting with Kaalb and Jiron was over, Talen was very satisfied with the way things were turning out. He and his new compatriots had decided to divide up the hundred into ten groups to do sabotage missions. There were, of course, not an equal number all together, so the thirteen left over were left with Talen, so that he might teach them some points of his trade, which were good for not only stealing but spying as well.

Those thirteen would not be put out until undergoing their training. The other groups of ten were doing stealth and teamwork exercises. Talen wanted this to be a worthwhile guerilla group; one that would soon become an army.

Talen, Jiron and Kaalb had also decide to get rid of all the stationed Church knights in Rendor by working their way from city to city, wiping all in their path, one by one till none who knew the territory remained. The Church would have no experienced warriors over here. They hadn't nailed out the details just yet, but they were working on it.

Right now, however, Talen was working on another project worthy of his swiftly decreasing time. He bent over a list of names, his brain trying to memorize all the names of the thirteen men under him. And he would learn them, he told himself, if it took the whole campaign he was about to wage, he would know the names of his men. And women, he corrected himself.

The idea of women fighting wasn't as foreign to him as it would be to some thanks to the Atans of the Tamul Empire, so Talen would make sure he utilized them. Women could be incredibly good at getting to a man's weakness, if they weren't the weakness itself.

Talen growled to himself in frustration. He just couldn't keep their names straight, and even with the powers he possessed, this was dependent solely on memory. He just wasn't good at names. Raven, who had been sitting in a dark corner, either thinking or dreaming, looked over at him. Talen could almost sense his stare and he looked up at the boy.

"Don't worry, I just can't get these names straight, that's all."

The boy nodded and bent his head back down. Talen watched him for a while. Perhaps he shouldn't have dragged him into this. He should be out in the streets, stealing, playing, and enjoying himself. Platime took good care of his people. But the boy could become so much if he developed his powers correctly. And if he didn't…what of his powers then? Abilities like that in the wrong hands could be deadly, not just to one or two people, but to nations, races, worlds. Too late now. The boy, as well as Talen, would have to deal with the consequences of their actions and choices when the time came. The boy looked back up at Talen and walked over to where he sat. He held up his hands, palm upward and the air in between them seemed to shimmer. The boy began to weave his fingers back and forth; creating intricate loops and knots with tiny hands, not unlike the Styric spell casting. As he moved his hands, the shimmering air began to shift colors until gradually staying in one hue and becoming solid.

Talen watched fascinated as the boy continued to work, almost like creating a rug with different threads or a spider spinning its web. The gestures of the small hands were now longer, moving upward in graceful waves and then arcing slowly out. At the end the fingertips moved as if molding a tiny piece of clay until the air solidified into a long green tendril and the minute details were put in it. The fingers slowed and the finishing touches were added. When the boy's hands were still, a graceful green plant hung suspended in the air between his hands. The leaves were long and sender, almost like grass and here and there long elegant tendrils curved put and curled at the end. To the top stood other green stalks with two bead-like structures on their tips. At the bottom long roots hung down, clear of any dirt and seemingly grasping for nutrients. Almost as an afterthought, Raven reached up and tapped the two beaded stalks and the beads burst into a feathery purple blossom.

"For you. Ask Hiren to make a garden for you, so it won't die."

Talen stared at the boy before taken the small plant, which hung

delicate and almost limp in his hands.

"What is it?" he asked the boy.

"Darestim."

__________________________________________________________________

Once more a meeting was held in the secret of the dark night, but far fewer knew and were present. Talen and his five sorcerers as well as the two Rendors had met to discuss what their next plan of action was to be. All eight sat in a cushioned circle and Raven sat to the back of the room, hidden by shadows. Talen of course had invited him to sit with the others, but the boy had firmly but silently refused.

"Where do we start?" Kaalb asked.

Lestav, ever the planner, answered that. "We've already decided that we'll start small, just taking out the Church knights stationed here and in the other cities so that the Elenes won't have many experienced warriors over here to start, but we need to do it quickly, before word can get back over to Eosia about what is happening. That shouldn't be too hard because we can easily station people all over the different cities and assassinate most of them in one or two nights. The hard part will be that supposed abbey. All the members are really Cyrinic knights. There are at least a hundred, probably more like 150 to two hundred. That will take a lot of time, a lot of planning, and a lot of men. It will be costly, but I don't see anyway around it."

Jiron looked at him. "Can't you all go with them and…you know…?" He waved his hands about as if searching for a word.

"Well, yeah, we can take a lot of people out, but using our powers isn't as easy as you all may think." Nyph glanced at Talen. "None of us have done what Talen has. We don't have that sort of power and even he isn't immortal or something. Right Talen?"

Talen answered slowly. "Yes, that's right. I can do only as much as I can conceive, and even that is subject to the principles of this world. I'm just as human as the rest. I just don't have the some of the limitations of the others."

Kaalb looked down. "This will be very costly, and with our numbers…how can we accomplish anything after that. It would wipe out almost all our forces, and even loosing one right now is costly."

Nyph joined in. "And all the people are trained warriors, for all of their lives! Ours are training, but a couple of weeks verses years…Well, if that was all we had to do, we could manage. But let's face it, this is just the beginning and we need this to be absolutely successful if we want anymore people to join."

They all lapsed into silence, each striving for a worthwhile answer. Talen stared moodily into the flames. He had no recollection of the time he sat there but faint movement caught his eye and he quickly glanced that way to see Raven. He suddenly sat up.

"I have a way. Not only for the Cyrinics, but for all the jobs, that will save all our people."

The others looked up at him expectantly. "Poison."

A chorus of objections and acclamations sprang forth and Talen waited for it all to die down. "Not just any poison. Darestim."

Kaalb and Jiron exchanged glances. Jiron started slowly. "Talen-Sa'hidi, I don't think you realize how rare that is. And expensive."

"And though the results are fatal, it works extremely slowly."

Talen smiled a somewhat wicked grin. "Don't worry about that. Raven, come here for a moment." The boy walked over and stood by Talen's side. "Can you show them what you gave me?"

The boy made no sign of acknowledgement, but immediately started moving his hands and creating the Darestim plant. All watched in stunned silence as the boy worked. When he was finished Jiron carefully picked up the plant and examined it gingerly. "Its darestim all right, but it will take months to kill all we poison."

Talen smiled again. "That's where I come in. Let me show you. I need something alive, but expendable. Raven, will you bring in that goat?" The boy left the room quietly and returned moments later with the animal. Talen carefully pealed off some of the plant's leaves and fed them to the animal. He then lay back on the cushions and concentrated hard on the animal. Working as a catalyst, he sped up the effects and the animal began to show severe signs of illness. It withered away before their eyes.

No one said anything for a very long time. Talen was the one to break the silence. "I won't be able to do it that fast of course, and it will take a lot out of me, but it should serve our purposes. It will also alert some friends of mine as to what is going on." He paused. "Oh, and one more thing. Before we start this, we warn all Elenes to get out of Rendor. We'll give them four weeks after that."

Lestav immediately objected. "That will give them time to tell what's going on here!"

Talen shook his head. "I know, but I want to at least give them the chance to live. If this war could be avoided…but they must at least have the chance. Let us make ready, then start out. Disperse our people throughout the cities and send the notes. I will need to know the houses and people we are poisoning so I can concentrate properly. Alright, let's get to work."

__________________________________________________________________

Kaalb leaned against a dark wall, breathing hard. The dark corridors hid him, but he felt as if every breath he took was a strong wind echoing down a cave and every heart beat a thrumming drum. He calmed himself down a bit and began to walk slowly and quietly down the hall, ears attuned for the slightest sound.

He had wanted to go on the mission, because it was dangerous, but essential. Two weeks after the initial plans, the operation had gone underway. This was the Cyrinic abbey, and it housed over a hundred and fifty knights. And not all of them were asleep apparently. The two others who had come in with him had already been caught. That meant that now more knights besides the guards were up and they were probably on high alert. The good thing…well, they wouldn't be moving towards the kitchens. Kaalb had had his accomplices take some pretty trinkets they had found so it would make them look like normal thieves.

Kaalb thanked God that Rendor had no organized crime, not like Tamul or Eosia. Otherwise he was sure serious flaws would have come up in their cover-up story.

He heard the clank of amour and scooted close to the wall. He got his breathing under control and watched in apprehension as a robed knight walked quickly passed him without noticing. When the guard was far enough away he stepped out into the light and checked the map that someone had drawn of the compound. He was close. Just down this hallway and the first door on the right.

He moved quickly now, though still trying to be quiet. He darted in the kitchen door and looked quickly around searching for the water barrels. He spotted them in the far corner and made his way over. He lifted the tops of three of the barrels and took out a vial of powder made from the darestim. He carefully sprinkled it in and covered it back up. The powder would dissolve over night and anyone who drank would get a lethal dose.

Kaalb turned and darted out of the room. He ran back down the corridors now, wanting nothing but to be out of this place. He was dashing across the courtyard when a knight barred his way. Kaalb reached for his dagger, but it was too late and the Cyrinic had cut a deep slash through his midsection. Kaalb was appalled at the amount of pain that ran through his body. His hand immediately clutched his stomach, holding back entrails he feared would fall out. Nerves screamed as he touched in parts that no human should have ever seen, much less held. The knight made no sound but looked at him resignedly, clearly think he was already dead. Kaalb however, much as he wished otherwise, was quite alive to everything, including the searing pain. He stumbled forward and gutted the knight, who was fortunately not in armor. The knight had a look of shock on his face as he fell and Kaalb felt grim satisfaction at seeing his killer fall before him. He stumbled onward, out of the gates, blood pulsing from his wounds and leaving a bright red trail behind him.

When Kaalb came too, the dark-skinned, white-haired boy called Hiren was leaning over him. Hiren smiled in his quiet way and put a gentle hand on his chest, holding him down.

"Don't move. You're not completely healed. Just rest for another week and you should be fine."

"I…I thought you just worked with plants, nature."

The boy smiled again. "Yes, I work with nature, and what are we? Some supernatural creature outside of the natural bounds? I think not. I am not limited to plants, or on sentient beings. Nature has no bounds when it comes to the mind. As long as it is alive, I can connect with it." He paused and grinned one more time. "Though, if you wanted to have philosophical debate, metals and rocks are also a part of nature, though they do not live or breath."

With that Hiren got up and left the man and walked outside of the small curtained room partitioned off from a bigger goatskin tent. He could hear a quite large crowd moving outside the tent, but did not wonder at it. Talen had set up a visible camp for people to come to, to show that they had proved their plans could work. They were right on the outskirts of Dabour. The people of Rendor had gathered because of this miracle; some to bring their sick to him, some to protest them as practitioners of witchcraft. The boy cocked his head. "Are they getting violent?"

The newly arrived Talen shook his head. "Not yet. I don't think I should have come; I can't concentrate at all on the darestim. No matter. Listen, Hiren, how much do performing those 'miracles' take out of you?"

"The world is a constant flow of energy, like…like a river. So it doesn't tire me out, it just requires my concentration. Zi'yal calls you a wolf and the boy a raven, so that is one of your pairings, but look at us. You are using the same techniques that I do to kill people, while I heal them. You are a being of death, and I of life."

Talen looked at him, his facial features mirroring how that statement disturbed him. Hiren just smiled and laughed again. "Death is not evil, just unpleasant at times, but necessary. Life is usually better, but the curse of immortality, never-ending life, is the worst in the world."

Talen sighed and looked away before he jerked back as Nyph entered the tent. He looked shaken. "What is it?"

"Some guy just tried to kill me…said I was consorting with demons, that sort of thing."

"What did you do?!"

"Nothing, I just created an illusion of myself and came here. And Talen, he's not the only one. There is an angry, angry mob out there, and they will kill us. And soon. These are open attacks too. The people, the people think we are holy, that we are prophets and surviving this proves us, so no one is going to help us, no one at all. I think we may want to get ourselves out of here, and have armed guards with us at all times."

"No. We won't hide behind guards…or our powers. And no Rendor is to be harmed in any way, understood? "

"But Talen-Sa'hidi—"

"No. What does that mean? People keep calling me 'Sa'hidi', but I don't know what they mean."

"Uh, Kaalb told me it's sort of a term of respect, only it has a religious meaning as well as temporal."

Talen considered that. "I see. Where are the others?"

"Mostly in there tents I think."

"Very well. Do try to have everybody in by dark; I don't want to be caught un-aware. Hiren, are you going to work any healing miracles on the people today or would you rather stay inside?'

"No, Talen, I won't stay inside, I think I'll go about healing for a while. It will do our reputation a favor, don't you think?"

__________________________________________________________________

Talen awoke to the quiet footsteps outside the tent. He was already dressed, but he took time to slip on his shoes before the men entered. He had stoked up the fire and poured himself some wine, which he was sipping when they tore through the tent doors, expecting to drag him from his bed. Talen smiled both to himself and at the dozen men standing before him. He stretched out his arms in a friendly manner. "Gentlemen, May I offer you all a drink before you cart me off? God knows sneaking around like that can cause quite a sweat."

Which, of course, Talen knew it did. One became very nervous when moving slowly in the dark. The senses became heightened and you concentrated more. Every thief experienced this, especially on his first few runs, but an experienced one could learn to concentrate less and was, unless it was a very big or important job, almost never really nervous.

The leader stepped forward. "Seize him!" Five men stepped forward and two tied him while the rest held him, though Talen offered no struggle. The men jerked Talen down on his knees and forced his chin up at the leader. The man looked down in scorn.

"Where are you tricks now? You are nothing but users of witchcraft, but even that has—"

The ropes fell limp and Talen's body momentarily disappeared only to re-appear a few feet back. He stepped forward, his arms held together so they could be re-tied. "The only reason I do not escape is because you will give no peace till this is decided. I will not run and hide from you, for I have nothing to hide. I don't want just what's best for Rendor, this is true. I want what's best for all suppressed people. I will not back down. If I loose this confrontation, there is no way that I will win any others." The rope was quickly rebound, though not with the same enthusiasm, now that it became apparent that it held no confining power, and Talen was lead from the tent.

__________________________________________________________________

All of the sorcerers where held in the same cell, no comfort was given to Zi'yal. None of them slept much that night, wondering, but not really worrying, what the dawn would bring. They were confident both in their skills and their leader. A confidence that soon dwindled a bit when Talen put unexpected restraints on them. He strictly forbade anyone from using their gifts until the last possible moment. And, then, no one was to be hurt, at all. Simple and without risk, if possible. The restriction made anxiety a bit worse and the time waiting didn't help.

They were lead from the cell shortly after dawn.

Even though it was early in the morning a large crowd was gathered. Talen couldn't help smiling; this meant he had at least got their attention. Talen looked at the faces of his companions as they were led onto a small platform and were positioned in front of nooses. Elith and Nyph looked calm, Elith because of confidence in his skills, Nyph because of his somewhat blind faith in Talen. Lestav and Zi'Yal looked quite a bit more worried. Hiren was smiling his customary smile that was beginning to worry Talen.

He reached out with his mind and spoke to all of them, telling them to snap the ropes and get out of there, translocation or teleportation if possible. Talen then looked out over the crowd in front of them. One of the men in charge got up and started speaking, telling the crowd who was being hanged and why. It seemed to take forever before he finished speaking. Talen realized with a start that he was nervous. He had never been confronted with death quite so face to face. He shook his head to clear it; this was no time to panic. His mind still wandered flitting back between his plans for the future and reality.

A drum roll echoed out into the early morning air, lingering in the sudden silence. It cut short and Talen could feel the rope sharply constrict around his neck; it was that which snapped him out of his stupor. His mind raced back to the present before the rope actually went taut and pushed the air up from the platform below him, keeping him suspended in mid-air. At the same time he felt Zi'Yal's panic and managed to support her just before the rope snapped her neck, but he felt his mind slipping away from him and he struggled to keep his focus on both himself and her. Elith had already teleported himself out and Nyph's image distorted and then fizzed out only to reappear on the edge of the crowd. Lestav seemed to rather pass through the loop of the rope to land on his feet and dash through the crowd before the surprised guards could react.

Talen could not see what happened to Hiren. He quickly whispered to Zi'Yal's mind telling her to snap the rope. Her mind reacted immediately and the rope snapped as though it had been cut. Talen quickly turned to look at Hiren. He seemed to be strangling, but his sickly-sweet smile was still in place.

"_Hiren!"_ Talen sent out, but got no reply. He was about to reach out once more when a small plant seemed to burst out from under the platform. Though the past events had taken only about a minute, guards had started toward Talen and Hiren, but stopped short as the plant began to grow and bloom before their eyes. The plant grew fast, tendrils reaching out to support the small form. Hiren kept smiling as what should have taken years to occur happened in seconds. The rope holding him quickly desintegrated and he remained standing on only the plant, which now burst into full bloom, large white petals unfolding in the early dawn light. Talen stepped out onto the air and looked at the people. "What evil could create this beauty and life?"

Argues immediately broke out and Talen could hear murmurs about land and demons. He was about to speak again when Elith suddenly appeared next to him and spoke out. The silence was deep and immediate. His harsh voice rose out over the crowd.

"No matter what you people choose, we are an unstoppable force, and you will understand eventually. You will be swept along with us, and there is really nothing you can do about it. The world will be swept up, you will just be the first."

Talen's mind was then thrown into a shock of whirling colors as the scenery and faces around him blurred as he was swept away by Elith's mind. The crowd sat in stunned silence as all of the heretics disappeared into thin air.

__________________________________________________________________

One in the crowd turned and headed away from the gathering. Berit was not exactly smiling but had a rather thoughtful look on his face as he walked away. "Very interesting, Talen, very interesting."

__________________________________________________________________

When Talen's mind stopped churning, he felt nothing but cold, white anger. That stupid man. He might have ruined all those months of work. That stupid, stupid man. Talen spun on his heel of face Elith. His eyes burned and Nyph, who was behind Elith, shrank back.

"Elith." Talen's voice was icy. "Why did you do that?"

"You needed to be taken out and those people needed to understand that they are not our only concern." He said calmly.

"You might have just gone back in time to the start and ruined all that we have worked for! You fool, what possessed you to do that! And no matter what you think, they are our first concern."

"You are not our Lord, boy, you're just a child compared to me and no matter what your powers, that doesn't mean you are smarter or can lord over us!" Elith growled.

"This wasn't my idea, but I think it's right, so I am supporting it. You want to go off and do it your own way, do that; but I have taken the best route I know, and I am not holding any of you here against your will. I haven't made you do things like a slave and I have always listened to you. I give you all my respect, but if you go out and undermine all that I have done…I won't stand still for that. And you can expect the worst from me if it happens again.' He paused and glared around the room. "Now that that's out of the way, I have some business over in Eosia, so if you will excuse me." With out another word Talen crossed his arms and winked out of sight.

They all stared in silence and were too stunned to notice that Raven had disappeared too.


	5. Spiderwebs

Chapter Four

Spider webs

Sparhawk paced in the private chamber that held himself, Ehlana and Danae. It was a bad habit, he knew…but bad habits died hard. Rendor was steadily becoming a problem. A big problem. Not just for Elenia, but for the entire Church, for the entire Eosian continent. It was Rendor, and if he knew Rendors, they would try and convert the entire world to their extremist point of view.

Of course, there was definitely something different this time. No noisy gathering of angry nomads, no riots or rallies…everything was quiet. And then there had been one note, one warning. 'Every Eosian was to get out of Rendor or pay the consequences.' And then the falling sickness had hit. But not just any Eosians; just the ones who had connections, even hidden ones, to the Church or the Church Knights. Sparhawk mourned the loss of some of his close friends over there. Whoever was conducting this knew him, knew the church.

Oh Kurik, if only you were with me now…

Without thinking, Sparhawk had stopped his pacing and had closed his eyes. He could feel tears gathering. _Control, control. Oh how I miss you my friend… _

__________________________________________________________________

Talen stopped outside of the city to purchase appropriate clothing before continuing on to the palace. He had thought a long time about how he was going to make his entrance. Nothing really posed a very strong threat against him, but his thief's sense absolutely forbade him a flashy entrance. So he would go for subtly. His garb was simplistic, but he did carry a Peloi saber on his left hip.

He walked past the guards at the gates of the palace. It didn't matter, they couldn't see him. Or notice him really. He smiled, thinking of the irony. He was using Aphrael's own trick against her. He hoped they wouldn't be punished for not stopping him; it wasn't really their fault.

He continued down the halls, looking neither right or left. He knew where he was going. He would have been the Queen's Champion after Sparhawk; he knew where Danae's chambers were.

He walked in and sat on the bed, looking around. From the fireplace, two green eyes stared at him. Mmrr looked at him a while before going back to her cleaning. Talen's heart almost broke.

_I gave her to you…back when I didn't know…I didn't even care for you then…and then I grew to love you…oh Aphrael, how I loved, but I didn't know if it was me or you. Now I couldn't have possibly continued with this unless…unless I could have trusted you, and you broke that trust. Oh, Aphrael…_

_But what would you have done anyway, I was a mere mortal, I would have died. And you would have found someone else to ease your pain. You would always have someone else. What was there for me in the first place, even if you hadn't meddled._

Talen lay back on the bed, just to wait.

__________________________________________________________________

The now fifteen-year-old-Danae felt an odd sort of anticipation, a nervousness as she walked back to her rooms. It bothered her. There was no reason for this. She felt as though her stomach was doing flip-flops. This was absurd; gods did _not_ become sick to their stomachs out of nervousness. They only became sick if their followers stopped praying to them, not from being anxious.

The guards outside her doors saluted her smartly and drew the doors open. She smiled at them as she passed, but the queasiness did not go away. The guards pulled the doors shut behind her. She breathed deeply, taking the damp, grassy smell that permeated her room. Outside it was dark and rain came down, not pouring, but not sprinkling either. The first thing she did was kick off her shoes. She smiled at the grass stains on her feet.

Perhaps, she thought, a bath would help. She didn't ignite any candles. She was happy in the dark, the odd flickering of the dim fire providing quite enough light. She reached out and undid her long, dark hair, letting it fall to her shoulders. She tossed her head and took of her outer robe. Her skin prickled against the cool air as she stood in her flimsy slip and undergarments. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply once more.

She was very surprised then, when she felt the tip of a blade against her throat, and an arm wrap around her waist, keeping her captive. Her eyes snapped open but she did not move her head. She felt a warm body pressed behind her and held her breath, afraid of whom it might be and what they might do. She almost fainted from relief and shock when she heard, smelled, felt Talen's breath next to her ear, speaking in a thrillingly dangerous tone.

"Danae, you shouldn't be in your room alone in the dark, you never know what might happen…"

Danae closed her eyes and leaned back in to him. _Oh gods, Talen, what are you doing?_

She was afraid now, though excited too. He could not kill her…but he could cause pain. If he really was angry there were all sorts of terrible things he could do. Why else would he have a blade held against her throat? _Talen, has it come to this?_

Talen was not sure what to do. All his plans had vanished. This was a stupid idea, he shouldn't have gotten this close to her, hadn't allowed himself to feel her heart beating, hear her quick breaths, smell the fresh breeze in her hair…His own eyes closed and he felt the his hand with the blade in it falter and go limp. He licked his lips, trying to concentrate on not concentrating on her. This was a stupid, stupid idea…

Danae felt him go limp, felt his head lean slightly on hers, though she knew it was not of his own choice. The reaction she was getting made one part of her want to giggle and smile, another to melt and yet another to cry. Now, she thought, was her chance. She just wanted another chance at him, a first chance. If only he could have loved her at least once, if he had just told her before this…Why now of all times, was he this close to her, this helpless before her? Now, after he had forever turned her away. She turned her head slightly and kissed him lightly on his half parted lips. To her delight, terror and surprise he kissed slowly back. She turned in his arms and slowly slid her arms around his neck. He leaned down into her before pulling sharply up and stepping away.

"Aphrael, I'm sorry…I can't. No." His voice was so different from the last time he had really talked to her, two years ago. It was pleading, desperate. "I can't, please. I shouldn't have done that. I know. " Aphrael knew that was the closest thing she would get to an outright apology

Danae could feel tears slide down her cheeks once more, and she sat down by the fire a few feet away from him. It had been all she'd longed for, but she had known that it would make her cry. "I know…I'm sorry too."

For a while neither said anything. Aphrael was the first to break the silence.

"Talen, before you leave, as I'm sure you will, I'm sorry too. I know, I know you can't accept my love now…" Her voice choked, "Or maybe ever, but you will be living as long as I now… and, If you ever change your mind…but I know—"She trailed off into tears. "I know it was my fault. I never should have played with you like I did. I'm sorry. So sorry."

She heard Talen walk towards the door. "I'm sorry too…and I forgive you, but Aphrael, that doesn't make up for what happened. I'm sorry for what I'm about to do…but I have to. You've been hiding the truth from too many people for too long. Not everyone has to know…but some people should, some people deserve to know…" He trailed off.

Aphrael was confused. What was he referring to? "Talen, what—" She turned to look at him, but only the dark, cold, damp room met her eyes.

__________________________________________________________________

Danae was late. Ehlana sighed as her husband once again set to pacing across the room. He was more worried than he should be. True, their daughter was never late, but it didn't mean anything, because this Rendor crisis was weighing on everyone's mind. For days now it seemed the queen, her family and her advisors had been living in this tiny room discussing what action to take. Ehlana could really have cared less if Rendor broke away, but she could not afford to appear as though she had broken away from the too-powerful-church. There would Hell to pay, in more ways than one, for that consequence.

Sparhawk was in mid stride when the presence was finally noted. He turned quickly to the corner by the door and stopped short as a figure emerged from the shadows in an unnerving and completely unnatural way.

With two quick strides Sparhawk placed himself in front of Elahna and had drawn his sword, the cold sound of metal against sheath ringing in the quiet.

The figure was dark; he had a hood pulled over his head and was dressed in blacks and grays. The man did not move forward but rather raised his hands to show he was not holding any weapons, though he did shift his hip to alert them to the presence of the Peloi saber at his side.

"Who are you" Sparhawk growled, already on edge.

A slightly mocking response came back. "Why you don't remember me? Sparhawk, I'm wounded to the core." The man stepped forward and Sparhawk lowered his stance, ready to block anything that might come at his queen. He moved his hands and threw back his hood and looked up at Sparhawk, a slightly feral glint shining in his eyes.

"You still don't recognize me? Well I suppose I have changed a bit… and I'm not as…distinctive as Martel was. Besides, you have to be pushing, what is it now, 60 and I understand that old people like you lose their memory. But I could never forget you Sparhawk, not after all that you did for me, finding my family, giving me a place among the Pandions, giving me a chance, a respectability I didn't have before, destroying my freedom…ring a bell at all?"

"…Talen…" Sparhawk heard Ehlana gasp quietly behind him. He did not lower his guard.

"Congratulations. I was afraid I'd have to actually come out and say it." He said sardonically.

Sparhawk was annoyed with this superior tone. It wasn't as if he was stupid. "Well Talen, since I'm sure your not here to return to the Pandions, why are you here? Or is it you are holding some childish grudge against me and you want your revenge? Go ahead Talen, charge at me with your self-pity."

Talen smiled tightly. "My dear Sparhawk, you think far too highly of yourself. I haven't come to talk to you at all, old boy." His tone and manner pierced Sparhawk as it echoed of Martel. The whole situation did in a way. But the next remark took him completely off-guard. "No, I came to see your wife."

Ehlana looked very startled, having an idea of what the younger man might be insinuating. Sparhawk spoke again. "Talen, you aren't going to try and hurt her for money, or power, or revenge are you? How petty and how juvenile you have become, Talen."

Talen rolled his eyes. "You're getting slow, old man. I'm not here about anything concerning you at all…but then again maybe I am" He suddenly got a thoughtful look on his face. "Yes, I do believe I will leave you with some rather thought-provoking things for your wife and you to discuss. You can put your sword down, you know. I'm not going to physically harm anyone…I may shatter a few illusions, but what's that to you, hmm?" His playfully haughty demeanor sudden flashed into a harsh, dangerous and very serious one. His voice became much quieter. "I could kill you all right now if I wanted to, without lifting a finger.

"But do let me move back onto the point, as I'm sure you don't want me to keep you waiting in the breathless anticipation I'm sure your enraptured in." he moved back into his bantering tone. He turned and sketched an artsy bow to Ehlana. "My Lady," Sparhawk noted that he dispensed with any royal titles. Talen continued, "I come to you with grave news, and fear that a very important fact may have been hidden from you by ones very close to you. I find it my unfortunate, but necessary duty to enlighten you to this deception." Sparhawk was beginning to get a sinking feeling in his gut.

"You heir, My Lady, is an imposter." Talen was silent for a bit. Ehlana looked confused and skeptical. She looked at him worriedly and shook her head.

"Talen, you're mad."

Talen just smiled. "I knew you might say something along those lines. My Lady, when you next see your daughter, I believe she's crying in her room at the moment, you will have to take the time to notice she's not an Elene. She's Styric."

Talen glanced over at Sparhawk. "You aren't going to say anything? Not going to try and stop me? Interesting. Anyway…"

Sparhawk did not say anything. What could he say? He just prayed, to all the gods he knew of, that Ehlana would not go mad when learning this.

"After noticing this, you will have to understand that you are barren. One of the side affects of your poisoning."

Ehlana said nothing, but she could feel hot tears burning silently down her cheeks.

Talen gave her a quizzical look. "Are you a god-fearing woman? Allow me to be more specific. Do you really believe in the Styric gods? I think you had better start. Your daughter is one. Aphrael, the one Sephrenia serves. You might—" Talen was suddenly interrupted by a loud sniffle. He stood stiff and still, but did not turn to the sound. Elahna and Sparhawk looked passed him and saw the tear-streaked face of their daughter standing in the doorway. Elahna stood up.

"It's not true…tell me it's not true."

Danae slowly nodded, her face a miserable mask of sorrow.

Ehlana stood up and started walking towards Aphrael. Through the still oncoming tears, Elahna's face was hard. She looked back towards her husband. "If you will excuse me…" Without a side-glance she brushed past Aphrael.

There was a silence till Talen's now soft voice broke through. "If you will allow me to express my regrets…" he said now in complete sincerity, "I will take my leave." He also walked towards the door, but unlike the queen he did stop and turn towards Aphrael. He bowed his head slowly in an apology and also exited.

Alone in the room, the goddess ran to her surrogate father's arms and wept.


	6. Declaration of War

Chapter Six

Declaration of War

Sparhawk had not been completely sure if it was a good idea to go into his and Elahna's chambers. He hadn't been sure if staying in Cimmura was a good idea, not after all that had happened. He had paused before entering and now he tentatively reached a hand out and opened the door.

The chamber was dark and the crack from the door sent a streak of light into the shadows. There was no sound. Sparhawk stepped into the room and looked around, but saw no one. The door behind him closed quietly and he spun around and saw his queen standing there. Her hair was down and messed up, her eyes dark in the shadow and tear streaks ran down her face though her cheeks were now dry. Controlled rage emanated from her.

Sparhawk knelt before her as her champion now, not her husband, for she was too angry to treat him as such at the moment. Her voice now broke the cold silence. "You will leave. You will both leave.

"My Queen?"

"You and my—that Styric. You will go to Rendor. You will stay there until you have quelled this rebellion against the Church. And then, before I _ever_ see your faces again, you will kill that boy."

"That boy, My Queen?"

"Talen. I want his head. And I never want to hear his name again. He destroyed my life…if you love me, you will kill him. If you ever want to feel my affection again you will kill that bastard…..curse Kurik for ever dallying with his mother! Curse him! And curse the brat's mother as well. Now get out…I don't want to see your face again till you've killed him. Get out!"

Sparhawk nodded his head before rising to his feet. "As you wish, my Queen. Your command will be done." Sparhawk was almost surprised to find how hard it was to say those words, to fight back the tears. He walked out of the room and headed to Danae's room to tell her the news.

________________________________________________________________________

The parting was quiet and lonesome. No one even knew about it, with the exceptions of Elahna and Platime. The clouds were, as usual, dim and overcast, promising rain and foul weather that night. It all seemed silent, really. Neither Sparhawk or Aphrael saying a word, and the rest of Cimmura seemed as devoid of conversation as they were.

The horses' hooves clapped idly on the cobblestones as the horses were allowed to walk without a care. Both Sparhawk and Aphrael wore cloaks to conceal their identities. As they left the city gates Aphrael glanced back, her horse coming to a stop. Her eyes mirrored her pain, sadness and sorrow. Sparhawk rode on for a while before stopping and waiting for her. After a bit she turned away and nudged her horse back into a walk and they continued on.

Sparhawk's thoughts were melancholy, and he smiled bitterly at the irony of the situation. He had been exiled to Rendor by both Elahna and her father.

But there was no one to relieve him of this exile now…no one but Talen, and his death. Even the irony of that hit him cold and hard. He had been ordered by his Queen, who had once saved him from exile, to kill Kurik's son. All the choices that had been laid before him were painful ones.

_I'm too old for this._

He hadn't even been able to tell anyone of his departure; Just a quick note to Khalad that he would be away for a bit and would contact him later. Khalad would be furious of course, but he would understand after the explanation. And the others…everyone he knew…they were not allowed to know of the exile…not yet at least.

He turned his face away as a Pandion rode by and another stab of pain hit him. He didn't notice when the other man's horse stopped. He did however, come to a quick stop when his name was called.

"Sparhawk?"

He turned quickly in his saddle, a dagger in his hand. He relaxed when the knight pulled up his visor and Berit's face was revealed.

"Sparhawk? What are you doing here?"

"It's a long story…" Sparhawk said morosely.

"And Princess, is that you?"Danae smiled a bit at him. "What are you two doing out here?"

"As I said, it's a long story…."

"Well, Sparhawk, I have some very important news for you…" His voice grew hushed. "Can I speak to you? Some place private perhaps?"

"Berit? What is it?"

"Important Sparhawk, very important…um, her highness might not want to be present…"

Sparhawk shook his head "…no…Danae can hear anything."

Berit nodded slowly. "Why don't we head to a tavern I saw a little ways back there? It's a good place for private conversations…and you all aren't dressed too conspicuously…why is that? Never-mind, I'll find out soon enough I suppose. Well, let's get going."

Berit turned his horse and the trotted down the road in search of the tavern.

When they reached the place, it was close to dinnertime. They dismounted hungry and walked inside the dark, dilapidated place. A smoky interior greeted them, and a large, greasy barkeeper guided them to a private booth in a corner, which was no lighter than the rest of the tavern.

"All right Berit, what is this news?" Sparhawk leaned forward.

"My apologies to both of you for being the bearer of this news…" Sparhawk mentally winced at the similarity between Berit's words and Talen's. "Sparhawk, I presume, you are well informed of the situation in Rendor?"

"Actually, that's where the princess and myself are headed right now."

Berit cocked an eyebrow at the princess in surprise, but said nothing towards that. He continued with his news. "We found out that this uprising was lead by a group of people, the Rendors call them _Sa'hidi shi'adan_ or, Rebel Prophets. There are six of them as far as I know.

"Sparhawk, they all have powers. Magic! Two of them, as far as I can tell, are Styric…but I don't know what the others are. One looks Tamuli, but I didn't see him that closely. Now, normally the people would have killed them immediately for witchcraft, but they can't! The so called 'prophets' have convinced the people to work together and accept others of a different race, and religion!"

Danae looked shocked. "How on earth are they doing that? The Rendors are the most pig-headed people out there!"

Berit shook his head ruefully. "I would have said the same thing...had I not known what I do. Sparhawk, Danae, they are lead by Talen."

No one said anything for a long moment. Danae bit her lip. Was this what Talen had meant when he said not to get involved? Was he using his powers to do this to people, to convince them to follow him and fight? But to what purpose? Sparhawk finally broke the silence. "Well, in a way that makes my job easier…"

"I don't understand. Sparhawk, what's going on?"

"Berit…Danae is, um…Danae isn't really my daughter."

"I can't believe Elahna would do that! Sparhawk, are you sure!?"

"No, no…nothing like that. Danae is Aphrael."

Instead of looking shocked, Berit looked vindicated. "I knew it!" he exclaimed. The goddess and champion stared at him for a moment. Berit shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I always thought there was something odd about it…" his face fell suddenly. "Oh my god…Elahna…"

"That's more or less what I though too, and that's more or less what happened." Sparhawk muttered. "Look, I'd rather not get into the details...it's somewhat painful at the moment, but the gist of things is, Danae and I have been basically banished to Rendor until that is straightened out…and we…kill Talen."

"What!" Berit's voice grew harsh. "Sparhawk, I know that boy's leading them against us, but, it's _Talen_, there has to be some way… and why don't you even give him the chance to surrender?" Berit's eyes narrowed. "Wait…how did Elahna find out?"

"That's what I was getting to. Talen told Elahna. In a rather less than compassionate manner. Hence her…somewhat uncontrollable rage towards him."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Well, why don't I go to the Pandion Chapterhouse, make my report and get myself permission to go back to Rendor? I'll accompany you." Berit suggested.

"Much as I want to refuse, I can't think of a decent excuse to do so. All Right. But you'll have to go undercover. No one is supposed to know about this. Morale would drop very, very low if word of any of this gets out."

"You don't have to tell me. Give me a bit of time, and I think we can get this all sorted out."

Danae, who had remained silent up until now, narrowed her eyes. "Berit, what are you planning?"

He smiled at her. "Oh, nothing. I'm just getting our necessary supplies together."

She looked suspiciously at him. "We'll see." He laughed nervously. They drank in silence for a moment before Berit once more spoke up.

"Sparhawk…you aren't really going to kill him are you?"

"I don't know."

__________________________________________________________________

Talen did not want to go in.

It hadn't been that bad, telling Elahna what she needed to know…it had almost been fun, the banter and superior position he had enjoyed. Well, until Aphrael had arrived. He was not cruel; he had not enjoyed making the princess cry.

But this was a bit different. He had no idea how this was going to turn out. But an apology was needed, and he was not so proud as to deny it. He sighed and walked on, his black cloak swirling about him as he moved.

He started over the bridge, and was soon met by two Pandion knights, mounted on horses. They apparently didn't expect him to know the signs. He had a hard time not smiling at their confusion. They asked who he was and he answered them…he was using his past identity really, but he had never officially been banned from the order, so it wasn't as though he was lying when he called himself a novice. But even if it was edging on lying, he was a criminal, wasn't he? He always had been; what moral code should he follow but his own? So he might as well go to this trouble if he wanted to. What harm could there be?"

It wasn't as if he couldn't get past them easily enough otherwise. He was perfectly capable of blanketing their minds; but this more direct approach had a strange satisfaction to it. It was a risk in a way and a challenge in another, for he was revealing his presence. He sighed again and passed the knights, heading into the Pandion Chapterhouse. He knew his way around easily enough, but he was not sure where exactly the person he was looking for was. He strolled through the main corridors until he saw a novice coming towards him.

"Excuse me?"

The boy, who was only two or three years younger than Talen turned towards him. "Sir?"

"Could you direct me to Khalad's whereabouts?"

" Lord Khalad's? Certainly, sir! He's in his room right now, in the left wing, second floor, third door on the right."

Talen graced the boy with one of his charming, lopsided smiles. The boy absolutely glowed, thrilled at being a help. The novice then dipped his head and continued on with whatever errand he had been on. Talen shook his head. What kind of children were they letting in nowadays?

When Talen reached Khalad's rooms, he was more nervous than he had ever been in his life. He raised his hand to knock, and stayed like that for several minutes before actually tapping on the door. His heart nearly jumped into his throat when he heard the call to enter drift through the hard oak door. He took a deep breath and entered.

Khalad looked up at him. He immediately gasped. "Talen!"

It was a pleasant surprise, that he recognized him immediately. No one else had. Except for Aphrael, but she didn't count. She had a distinct advantage above everyone else.

Talen smiled slightly at him, bittersweet emotions contorting his face. "Hello…brother."

__________________________________________________________________

It had taken time, but Berit had convinced Sparhawk and Danae to come with him to the Pandion Chapterhouse. Berit got them past the gate, and then into the Pandion housing. They chose not to reveal their identities. Some of the knights might notice and recognize them, but they would keep quiet. The Pandions, overall, knew how to keep a secret.

It was for this reason that Sparhawk and Danae opted to stay in Berit's room rather than accompany him while he reported his information. Berit showed them to his cell and then left Sparhawk and Danae to see to their own devices while waiting for his return.

__________________________________________________________________

Khalad stood up in surprise. "Talen…it's been so long. Why did you—no, never-mind. I'm just glad that you're back."

His brother came towards him, ready to embrace him. Talen shifted away. "Khalad, no. I want to explain. We're brothers and…well, things are coming down and I want you to know some stuff, you know, things I've been meaning to tell you since, since I really got to know you, but I've never said it."

"Alright then, Talen. Have a seat." Kalten nodded placidly at his cot, his face showing a serious eagerness to hear Talen's thoughts.

"Khalad, this is going to sound like a prepared speech or something but…just listen. I really want to let you know how much it meant to me that you took me in, even though you knew what I was…"

"Talen, you are my brother! Of course I would!" Khalad smiled again as Talen shook his head and blushed. He continued on, ignoring Khalad's response.

"And Khalad, I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. It's too complicated to get into why I left…but I needed to."

"Are you returning now?" There was hope in Khalad's voice.

"No. Brother, I came to say goodbye. I don't know when I will be able to see you again, if I will ever see you again. There's a very good chance I will be killed. Maybe even by one of the Pandions." He kept himself from continuing the thought. _Maybe by Sparhawk, Maybe by you._

Khalad spoke slowly. "Talen, what are you talking about? What are you into?"

Talen shook his head. "I can't get into details. But I wanted to let you know what I was doing, and why I left…and that I love you. You've been wonderful to me, and I haven't given you anything back. I'm sorry…but I can't do anything for you personally. But I am hoping that maybe, what I am doing now will give this world something better, and maybe, when this is all over, you won't hate me."

"Talen, what is this all about?"

"Khalad…I'm involved with the Rendor uprising. I'm trying to create a new world, Khalad, one where people aren't forced into a religion, where religion isn't a political power, just a moral influence. There is too much animosity towards anyone different there. And you Elenes are no better! You think the Rendors are all dumb and heretics, but you are as reticent to change as, as, Cyrgon! In your own fashion that is. I'm trying to change that."

Khalad raised an eyebrow, a sad, serious smile gracing his face. "You're the head of it, aren't you?"

"What?" Talen answered to quickly, startled.

Khalad laughed. "That speech you just gave, it proves it. You poured your heart into it. That and you kept referring to 'I' instead of 'we'." Khalad smiled. "You still make mistakes, little brother, don't forget that. Don't get too cocky."

Talen smiled ruefully. "I suppose. Actually, I might be being too presumptuous, but I was wondering if you'd join me?"

Khalad stood up and walked towards the door. His head was bowed down. "Unfortunately little brother, I cannot. I cannot betray the Pandions, I cannot betray Sparhawk, I cannot betray Elenia. "

Talen nodded and looked down. "I see. I am not surprised, for I assumed you say as such, but still, I had hoped…I had to offer. You understand?"

"Yes. And, Talen, I hope you will understand what I'm about to do." Talen looked up quickly as Khalad reached towards his armor and unsheathed a large broadsword. "I cannot, in good conscience, let you go now. Not after what you have told me, after I know what you are."

Talen looked somewhat startled. "Brother, please!"

"No Talen, I cannot let you do that."

"Brother, I am stronger than you, you will die!"

"Not if you back down. Talen, just agree to stay put."

"I cannot! I will not jeopardize this cause for personal feeling!" he growled.

Khalad snapped back."And I will not put Pandions at risk! Back down Talen."

Talen clenched his jaw and stood, also drawing his saber. "I'm sorry, Khalad." He lunged forward, stabbing at Khalad. His brother parried to the side and steeped forward with his own thrust. Talen knew his light saber would not be able to hold against the broadsword, it would shatter if he blocked directly. Instead he used his blade to simply redirect the broadsword.

They carried on, neither speaking a word, simply parrying, thrusting and slashing. Talen played with his brother, letting him have his own way. He attacked when necessary, but for the most part dodged and retreated, giving ground when he could. Khalad had switched suddenly, taking a more defensive posture. Talen goaded him on with his blade, flicking it and twisting it towards his brother before letting it dance back. Khalad managed to block almost all his thrusts, and then ones he couldn't Talen himself drew back. He made a final strike in close, at his brother's head, an easy move to counter.

But for some odd reason, Khalad did not, and only managed to lean out of the way at the last instant. He managed to avoid the blow becoming fatal, but the saber still sliced along the side of his head, the blood coming out heavily from the wound.

It was then that they paused before coming together in a colossal clash, metal screeching for a small eternity, before they broke apart, their chests heaving at the exertion.

"Give it up, Khalad, you can't beat me, I could kill you right now, without thought. I don't need to duel with you." Talen said, a dark light in his eyes.

Khalad shook his head."Then you will have to! Elenia!" He charged forward then, sword raised above his head. Talen could have thrown him across the room. He could have held him in the air, or he might have knocked him out. He did none of those things. Instead he drove his own blade deep into Khalad's chest, instantly killing him as he pierced his brother's heart in infinitely more ways than one.

The body fell heavily against the floor, and Talen sank to his knees with it. He drew his saber out slowly; it didn't matter, his brother was already dead. He knelt there and felt a tear slide down his cheek. He reached his hand out and caressed the side of his brother's cheek. "I'm sorry, so sorry Khalad…"

He was shocked at himself, angry to a point of madness. Why had he done that! He could have done many other things to get him out of the way…he hadn't needed to kill him.

And yet at the same time he knew why he had done it that way. One reason was for kindness' sake. His brother would never be able to forgive himself if he had been rendered powerless against Talen. He would have hated himself. The only way he could have gone down satisfied would be to either stop Talen, or be killed trying. Talen knew that well enough.

And then there was the wrenching second reason; the selfish reason.

Talen had needed to prove to himself that he could kill those he once called friends. What better test than on his own brother?

He choked as he came to the horrifying realization. He clutched his sword and hugged himself, still weeping on the floor. In a moment he teleported out, leaving the bloody body of his brother cold and alone.

__________________________________________________________________

Berit had just entered when they heard the yell. It rang out, muffled but audible and intelligible. Sparhawk motioned for Danae to stay where she was, and for once, she gave no objections. Sparhawk jumped up from his seat and with one look at Berit, they raced into the corridor to find the source of the yell. It was nearby. Sparhawk and Berit ran down the hallway and burst into an empty room. They quickly moved on to the next one, and found their mark.

Berit stopped in the doorway, but Sparhawk walked slowly towards the corpse, kneeling down beside it. "…Khalad…" he breathed softly. "…No…".

He was still on the floor when a young novice came in. The boy muffled a scream and fell on his knees in shock. Berit look horrified as well. "Who did this?" his voice hissed out in rage and extreme grief. He had not expected an answer; it had simply been an expression of helplessness and rage. But the boy began to cry as the words left Berit's mouth. Both Berit and Sparhawk looked sharply at him. They said nothing, and the boy continued to cry before speaking. "Oh sirs…it's my fault!"

"What do you mean?" Sparhawk did not mean for his voice to hold such an edge." The boy whimpered.

"A man came in, he was in the corridors, and asked for Khalad's room…I didn't recognize him, but I told him. He seemed so nice, and he smiled at me and…and..." The novice broke off into more sobs.

"What did he look like?" Berit's voice was soft. The boy looked up at him.

"He was dark, hair down to the shoulders, almost black. He wore a dark cape and had a saber at his side…"

Berit looked at Sparhawk, who nodded. "Talen." Berit turned away in rage, his fists clenching at his side. Sparhawk felt his insides congeal. _Oh Kurik, forgive me! I have to now! Your son, he has killed his brother! What would you have me do? Spare him even now? Murder, Kurik…_

_I have to now. I will kill him. If he is willing to do this, I will kill him._

_Oh, Kurik…_

________________________________________________________________________

Talen waked into the grungy inn he and his compatriots had stayed at a while back. He did not say a word, and there were still tear streaks on his face. He walked to the owner and handed him some money. Without a word he walked into a back room and threw himself on the bed.

He did not light any candles as the sun faded in the window. He closed his eyes for a long time but did not sleep, images running through his mind like memories of a nightmare; a living nightmare that refused to dissipate in the waking hours, but only grew more real and more haunting in the absence of sleep.

He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, and another tear crept out of the corner of his eye.

________________________________________________________________________

Bevier, Ulath and Tynian accompanied Sparhawk, Danae and Berit into the inn. They had come as soon as possible from their separate countries, as soon as Flute had informed each of them that they were needed. The innkeeper led them to their rooms, though they all gathered in the largest to discuss the matters at hand. All of them were desperate to know what was going on, but Sparhawk, sticking with his rather contrary nature, forced them all to give accounts of what was happening to them first.

Tynian was in the middle of recounting recent events when Kalten burst through the door.

"Sparhawk!" Sparhawk cringed slightly at the look his friend gave him. "You didn't tell me? I had no idea where you were? I had to track you down through Platime to find you!"

"Um…Sorry?"

"What am I going to do with you?" Khalad groused.

"Aw, you know you love me for it." Sparhawk said, with a hint of a smile.

"Damned that I do. So, what's going on? What made you sweep out of Cimmura like Azash was after you?"

Sparhawk sighed. "Berit will tell you all…"

Berit informed them of everything that had happened. When he told them of Danae they all turned and stared at her for a bit before Bevier smiled. "Hullo, Flute."

The former princess burst into tears and ran towards him, burying herself in his arms. He smiled at the rest of them and consoled her as she sobbed. It was too ironic, in his mind, that a devout man such as himself would be comforting a goddess of another religion.

When she calmed down sufficiently they went on to discuss plans.

Sparhawk looked at them all, a sinking feeling in his gut. "You all are planning on coming with us, aren't you?" His question was met with deadpan stares. He simply nodded. "Stupid question."

Tynian looked at Sparhawk. "You said you didn't recognize Talen at first. How does he look now?" The innkeeper knocked on the door with their dinner. Ulath rose to get it for them.

"He's very dark, his hair is almost black now, and he dresses darkly too, probably because of Rendor. He's not terribly tall and he has a sense of normality or unimportance around him. Like cloaking himself in a way, so you don't notice him. It's unnatural only if you're looking for it."

The innkeeper cleared his throat as he set the food in front of Sparhawk. "Excuse me sirs, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help but hearing that description. The friend you just mentioned, well, I think he is staying here as well."

They all tensed; Aphrael fidgeted and looked down. Sparhawk looked at the man, feigning mild interest. "Oh? Where is he?"

"About two doors down I believe. Now if you good gentlemen will excuse me…M'lady." He nodded at Danae and left the room.

"Well my friends, what now?" Tynian asked.

________________________________________________________________________

Talen had not moved for days. He neither ate nor drank, getting up only twice for the bathroom, and once to shut the curtain, blocking out all traces of light. The innkeeper had not bothered him either; something for which Talen was infinitely glad. He wanted to see no one.

He had quite lost track of time. Hours, minutes, seconds, days ,weeks, what did it matter? _Is this what it has come too? I swore to Khalad I would not let personal feelings get in the way of my goals…yet all I am doing is lying here…It is a disgrace to both myself and him. _

With this mindset, he had broken his apparent trance and sat up. The room was still dark. He was about to stand up to open the windows when he felt something soft and warm grab his wrist.

He was almost never startled, but his adrenaline was already high from all the emotional release he had undergone, so the touch scared the wits out of him. His wits may have left him, but his reflexes did not. He immediately pulled the thing towards him, while taking a small dagger from his boot. He held it softly against the thing.

And then he heard the soft voice. "Wolf, it's Raven."

He quickly relaxed. "I'm sorry Raven. How did you get here? How did you find me?"

"Wolf, they are coming."

"Who?"

"Sparhawk and the others. They mean to kill you this time."

"Where are they? How soon."

"We have to go. Now."

Something in the boy's voice made Talen agree. "Very well. Let's go."

________________________________________________________________________

"Danae, you stay here." Sparhawk ordered.

"You'll need my help." She had not told him of Talen's newfound powers. Not yet. She would soon, but not now. "Please?"

There was a pleading tone to Sparhawk's voice. "I'm going to kill him Danae. I don't want you to see that."

"You need me." Her voice was surprisingly calm. Sparhawk looked as if he was about to argue, but then thought better of it. He nodded. Normally there would have been some amount of banter at this irony, but no one had the heart to muster a joke that no one would have the heart to laugh at. It would have been in very poor taste.

They crept quietly down to the room that Talen was supposedly in. Ulath opened the door and Sparhawk jumped in, sword drawn. It was completely dark. Bevier quickly lit a candle.

Nothing was there, although someone had obviously occupied the place shortly before. The bed was a tangle of covers, as if it had experienced either a night of passions, one of consuming anguish, or perhaps a struggle. Kalten touched the blankets and looked up at Sparhawk. "They're still warm. Some one was here _very_ recently."

Danae glanced around the room. "But we don't know if it was Talen."

"Actually, I think we do." It was Berit. He stood by a table looking at a piece of paper.

In the handwriting of the haunted, half a sentence was scrawled, written in great haste.

_Tell mother I'm sorry._


	7. Seductions

Chapter Seven

Seduction

"Do you have anyone to say goodbye to, Raven?" Talen looked down sadly at the boy. The streets of Cimmura were dark once more and rainy as usual. They continued walking along the damp streets, cloaks pulled tight around them.

"…No…" Raven had a distinctly neutral voice.

"No one?" He paused before continuing. " I envy you in a way. Though I know very well how it is to be alone like that." His voice trailed off into a slight whisper. "So very, very well." He paused before asking another question. "Did they treat you well? Platime, I mean, all of them,"

"I was not in Cimmura for very long. I don't know how Platime was. But he did give me to you."

"Did the men before treat you well? Or were you with those brutes I rescued you from?"

"I was with them. And no, they didn't treat me well at all." Yet again his voice held a detached note in it.

A note of anger filled Talen's voice. "What did they do to you?"

"It doesn't matter. That's what life is like on our side of the world." This time his tone was matter-of-fact. He held no scorn, self-pity or anger in his voice.

"Yes." Talen nodded, his voice much quieter. "I suppose it is. Sparhawk, you know, and Kurik too, he was my father, they don't really know what our thieves' den is like, do they?" He laughed softly, wistfully. "No, of course not. I didn't want them to see that part of it. No one ever does. Even though we're surrounded by all that darkness, we still deny it, to outsiders, and especially to each other and ourselves.

"But we're thieves and whores and murderers. And yes, to some extent, it is a game, and it is our way to live, but if you could live any other way…oh, how you would take that chance. You know, thieving isn't really all that bad…perhaps I'm just making up excuses for myself, but it isn't. But then you get to the other stuff. The murderers. All the people they kill can't be that bad. Is someone's very life worth money? A few coins? We kill for a living, take other's to keep our own. And how many of those men we kill are honest enough, more so then ourselves, and how many have loving families? The whores…you know Raven, I couldn't do that if I was a woman.

"My mother was like that, in a way. And that little fling was the beginning of my existence. But you know, that night of pleasure? No matter how things have been forgotten and forgiven, it's still not the same. Aslade knows that, for some reason, she wasn't good enough for my father one night, that his wants, his desires meant more to him than his pledge to her. And I know she and Mother live together now, and are great friends but still… Kurik didn't even really love her. Not at the time.

"Think about it, he just saw her and found her pretty! And Mother, she was nothing but an outlet for those desires. I think, at times, that perhaps he did grow to love her. It certainly seemed like it. But it was all chance, all unfaithfulness.

"I wonder if Father new what kind of life I'd end up living. He gave me a chance at a more respectable line of work of course, but…" Talen paused and let another low, cynical and self-deposing chuckle. "I wonder if he knew how the other children treated me? It wasn't hard to figure out what I was. I didn't tell him of course, Father didn't need to know, but I couldn't have stayed there. Maybe Arcium has it right, with all that morality.

"I know, that, coming from me. But I can't help but think, that being moral, for morality's sake is pretty ineffective. You just make yourself feel better, but all in all, it make everyone a lot happier, doesn't it?" Talen glanced sideways at the young boy at his side. "You tend to make people talk, you know that. It's very unhealthy for me. You probably didn't understand half of that anyway. It was just me venting out my life. Sorry."

Raven looked up at him. He did not hug Talen to comfort him or to seek that comfort, and he did not speak any words of encouragement. He did not smile and he did not cry. He simply looked at Talen with eyes that seemed to soak up that sorrow and absorb its very being into themselves.

______________________________________________________________________

The room was dark and quiet. Talen lit a candle and walked over to the bed. He tapped the large figure sleeping in it on the shoulder. The figure immediately sprang up, a knife in hand. Talen laughed quietly, darkly. "You're pretty quick for a fat man."

The man sighed. "I expected to see you soon enough, Talen."

"That's very disappointing. I'd hate to be getting predictable."

"I just know you better than most. Well, no, I just know a thief's habits better than your other main acquaintances." Platime corrected himself.

"Undoubtedly. Well Platime, what did you expect me to be coming by for?"

"Why Talen, every criminal who's ever decided to turn themselves straight has always come to thank me and say they're sorry. Of course, you're doing rather the opposite. You're betraying us and everyone else you once knew and called a friend." Platime said knowingly, his tone dipping into anger towards the end.

Talen shrugged. "I wouldn't put it that way, but as you like."

"You know Talen, you have this distinct charm about you, a little finesse and grace that seemed to have escaped me. You have wonderful style. You would have been a great leader, what ever line of work you chose." Platime said ruefully.

"What, as Champion? Are you mad! Perhaps I have style, but I certainly would have been a bit much for all those butterflies of the higher class."

"Well, yes," Platime admitted. "But before that, we all expected you to take over when I died. You knew that."

"I thought you were just joking!"

"Talen, you know perfectly well a criminal's jokes are always have truth and half threat."

"You, old man, have taken to annoying adages in you latter years." Talen groused.

" And your tongue will still get you into to trouble one of these days." Platime shot back.

Talen sighed. "Trust me, it already has on numerous occasions, though the nature of the more recent ones would surprise you. And besides, it's nothing my feet can't get me away from."

"I hate to cut this delightful discussion short, but it is late Talen, and I have to be getting to work on that Rendor problem tomorrow. So let's get on with it."

"Why after that, I don't think you deserve a thanks and a goodbye."

"You mean you're not going to say you're sorry? I can do without the thanks and goodbye, but no "I'm sorry"? Talen, I'm shocked."

"I do try. My Lord Platime, Thank you for everything you have done for me over the years. You have been a very good friend and I hate to have to be one the other side, but such is life." He paused, looking thoughtfully at him. "Have you heard yet?"

"Heard what?"

"What I have done."

"You've started a bloody war! Or are trying to at least. And then, of course you killed Sparhawk's squire."

"Then why haven't you called the guards by now, being an honorable citizen, upholding the law, killing me when you have the chance and all that?"

"Talen, this will be the last I see you without calling for your head. You know that as well as I, but this time…this is our goodbye. I won't ruin it."

Talen snorted. "You're a wiser man than my brother."

"That is a bit degrading to both me and your brother, don't you think?"

Talen paid his question no heed and continued on. "It doesn't really matter anymore. Thanks for everything; it's been fun and very, very interesting. Goodbye Platime." Talen quickly extinguished the single candle, leaving the leader of the thieves alone in the dark.

If his ears hadn't been trained to be sensitive, he wouldn't have heard the whisper drift from nowhere.

"I'm sorry"

__________________________________________________________________

It was dark when Talen and Raven arrived in Dabour. They both moved quickly and quietly, using the stealth of thievery that they were so accustomed to. The shadows provided wonderful cover, and none of the watchmen that regularly patrolled the Rendorish streets at night came a cross them. Talen sent Raven off to his tent and Talen headed into his own.

Just as he was about to enter, he looked up at the sky, gazed at the stars. They were familiar now, he could easily tell exactly were he was by their position. Just like Father, just like Khalad.

The overwhelming urge to cry settled on Talen, but he bit it back. Even though he was alone, he would not allow himself to cry anymore.

And then his supposed solitude evaporated as a soft voice whispered out to him. "Oh Talen, I'm so sorry." The voice was deep and slightly gruff, as if unused to apologizing. Talen jerked his head up to see Elith standing before him.

The man's face showed pity and some amount of misery. He continued on. "I'm so sorry about all this, and you brother…it's all my fault." Talen said nothing. "Talen, I hadn't meant to hurt our cause…I came up with it, you know that. It's just that…I was afraid you would die." The last bit was hoarse with emotion. With that the man came forward and embraced Talen.

Talen's mind could not comprehend all of this, what did the man mean? Was he actually sorry for everything that had happened? Once again he fought the urge to cry. He leaned his head down onto Elith's shoulder and closed his eyes. Elith could hear the boy whisper slightly "Father…"

Elith leaned back a bit and looked at a very emotionally worn Talen. He reached a hand up and ran it down the side of Talen's face. "You are so beautiful, boy, and talented. He caressed his fingers along Talen's cheek. "So coldly talented, and dangerously beautiful."

The man's words were smooth and they had a calmness and comfort that spoke of something Talen had only had sporadically experienced as a child. It was the comfort of a father, that sort of a touch. He was almost lulled into crying, into breaking down and embracing the man and into accepting the darker things the man's touch had spoke of. He opened his eyes before shutting them again.

He did not know whether Raven had actually been there, watching, or if it was only his imagination, an image imprinted on his eyelid. He stepped away from Elith, shaking his head. His eyes were almost scared now. Elith raised his eyebrows at Talen. He shook his head again and ran off.

He darted into the nearest tent he could find. His breath was loud in the dark silence. Another whisper, a woman's this time, breathed huskily into his ear. "Again so soon, my love?"

Talen whipped around to face the woman. Zi'yal stepped back, her eyes wide. "Talen! I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"Evidently" he replied dryly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know this was your tent…I just got back."

"I assumed as much, this being the first I've seen of you in over a month."

"Well, then as you might expect, I'm rather worn out. May I use your couch tonight?"

Zi'yal smiled wickedly. "You sure you don't want my bed?"

Talen didn't have the heart to take her up on that offer, or to joke about it. "I'm tired Zi'yal. The couch will be fine."

She didn't look that hurt. "As you wish."

__________________________________________________________________

Talen awoke to find the tent empty. He walked outside and dashed back to his own tent, pulling on new cloths and then walking back outside to find some food. A campfire burned against the early morning desert sky, not casting any light, but heating the food. Talen made his way over and sat down.

Elith and Lestav were also there, picking at mutton. Talen sighed. "Mutton again?"

Lestav rolled his eyes. "You haven't even been eating it everyday for the last five months like we have."

"I had it everyday for four months, that's plenty. How have we fixed it today?"

"Fried with eggs and onions. It's actually one of the better things we've managed to do with it."

Talen grunted and speared some on his fork. Elith looked over at him, his face betraying nothing. "Talen, I've been thinking." Talen nodded for him to go on. "I think you should go to Zemoch."

"Zemoch? Why?"

"Here me out. Talen, you've just made Sparhawk your mortal enemy. You should know just how dangerous he is. But who is the one person who has forever haunted him, who knew Sparhawk well enough to give him a hard time."

"Martel." Talen let it out grudgingly. He did not like the man. He was partly responsible for Kurik's death.

"Yes. I think you should go to Zemoch, figure out where he died and raise him up, ask his spirit what Sparhawk's weaknesses are."

"I don't need to have anything to do with Martel. I've been friends with Sparhawk too, I know enough." His answer was harsh and quick.

"Yes, you've been friends for a long time, but you've never been his enemy before. Martel has." Elith kept patiently on.

"No."

"You are throwing away a great chance of gaining advantage because you're holding a foolish grudge!"

"He's part of the reason my father is dead!"

Elith remained quiet for a long time before spitting out his reply. "And just what was your father to you? I heard you cry for him last night. Was he so deserving of your tears, you willingness to avenge?"

Talen thought back on what he had said to Raven the night before, how he had been a mistake in the first place, and how much pain his father had put him through. And then he thought about how much he really, truly did love his father.

"You know, Martel didn't even really have that much to do with your father's death. It was nothing personal. It would be just as if you ended up killing one of your old comrades in this conflict. He had his reasons, and now you have yours. Are you really willing to throw away such a valuable resource for a grudge?"

"It is not mere grudge…"

"I'm not saying you have to constantly take council from him, just talk to him once, try to get him to tell you Sparhawk's weaknesses. Alright?"

Talen was silent as he nodded finally. "I need you to show me the spells."

Elith smiled coldly. "You mean you can't just will it to happen?"

"I don't know how it works in the slightest, so I can't…"

"Very well. We'll need to get started immediately. Every detail is very important. You most know the spells like the back of you hand."

"Let me finish my breakfast…"

"You won't want to eat tomorrow though, when we start practicing…the dead aren't all that appealing."

________________________________________________________________________

They spent the whole day drawing signs in the dust, memorizing formulas and magic symbols. Talen had gotten a headache early on, but had continued anyway. Memorizing the actual signs weren't hard, but putting them together in their proper places was.

He drew circle after circle and then began the inner workings of it, only to have Elith yell at him and stamp out the circle and command Talen to begin a new one. He finally became so irritated at himself, Elith, and necromancy in general that he took one look at the diagrams Elith had drawn, pointed to a spot of bare earth and commanded, "Be there!". The dust swirled and lines drew themselves in the earth. Talen looked at his work and then looked at the original. It matched perfectly. Then everything went Black as Elith whacked him on the head with a rod he used to draw the lines.

When Talen came to a few minutes later he glared at Elith. "What in god's name was that for?" Elith looked down at him.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous Necromancy can be? One small mistake and it could be _you_ people are trying to call back. You cannot take short cuts; you never know what might happen. Now, do you want to continue today?"

"I don't have all the time in the world. Let's get cracking." Talen sighed. "But no more hitting. What's with teachers and hitting anyway? You're just like Berit." He muttered, rubbing his head.

________________________________________________________________________

"So, how exactly am I going to find Martel? His body was obliterated by the destruction of Azash. I don't even know where exactly he fell, I was with my father at the time, I didn't see it happen."

Elith nodded. "Alright, is there anyone who would know where exactly Martel fell?"

"Someone who doesn't want to kill me at the moment? Not that I can think of."

"Who doesn't know about you yet, there must be someone!"

Talen was quiet for a long, long time. He finally looked up at Elith. "There is Sephrenia."

"High Priestess of Aphrael?"

"Yes. She was there, and she would know. But she hasn't heard of me yet…unless Aphrael's talked to her lately."

"Why would that matter?"

Talen shook his head startled. He'd forgotten that most didn't know that Aphrael was Danae. "Oh, she pays attention to Sparhawk you know. She may have told her sister."

Elith nodded. "Can you talk to people in their dreams?"

"I don't know…I've never tried. I don't really think it's a matter of being able to do it more than knowing how to…"

"Well then, I suggest that you talk to her in her dream. You can't get hurt there, and can always leave. Then, instead of explaining, because I'm sure she'll side with Sparhawk, take her to what Zemoch looks like now, and have her point out more or less where Martel died."

"It's worth a try I suppose…"

________________________________________________________________________

Talen and Raven sat underneath the wide, dark sky. There was no light around them, and the stars shone brightly in the sky with no clouds to obstruct their view. They sat on a wide, blasted plain, and nothing grew in any direction for miles around. It was simply flat and barren and dry. It was very empty, and very, very lonely.

Talen was glad Raven had come along. He hadn't meant to bring him, he hadn't really wanted to, but the boy had asked, and who was he to refuse him? After all, wouldn't he have done the same thing?

He would have told the boy to be very quiet now, to not say a word, but the boy never really talked all that much, so it didn't really make much of a difference. He simply told the boy he was going to talk to Sephrenia now, and the boy nodded, lay down and closed his eyes.

It was an odd experience at best. He didn't know exactly what he was doing, and it may have been that unknowingness that allowed him to do what he did. He closed off all his senses first, worked on feeling for Sephrenia. He dwelt o n her image, her voice, smile, words, everything. He felt several other minds that also thought of her. An old Pandion was apparently dreaming of her, or rather, having a nightmare where she was reprimanding him in his pronunciation of _okanjeranjin_. He moved on.

The next mind shocked him and he felt almost to be loosing himself. Burning, burning everywhere. He dimly heard himself cry out, but the roar of flames soon consumed even that. The flames burned hot on his skin, and thoughts burned hot in his mind. Sephrenia, Sephrenia Sephrenia…must have, pain, loss, anger, such anger to match these flames. And the lust, oh the lust. Want of her, of her body, her soul, mind, spirit. _Must have her! All mine, no one else!_

Talen shook violently and his hands went to his face, his head, covering himself, trying to ward off the scorching, searing, melting flames. He could find no external help. It was as if his mind was consumed alive by the fire. He began to dig, dig deep within his own self, his soul. He dug furiously to get away from this awful hell, this unceasing torment.

Then he felt the cold and looked up. He was still unseeing of the world around him, but in his mind's eye he was in a very damp, foggy place and it was very, very dark. It was silent for a moment, or at least it seemed that way after the roar of the fire. And then, from the darkness he heard the wailing, heard the deep-pitted cry and it echoed and rose and reverberated in this empty, lonely space like no human cry had ever been heard before. It held the most sadness, despair and utter misery ever heard by man or god. And it would not stop.

The sound forever came back and mixed with itself in to a ceaseless howl and it shattered everything. Talen felt as if he were being torn into shreds by that scream.

Raven had watched for sometime. He could not see of feel what Talen was going through, but he knew it was bad. He reached out and touched Talen, slightly pushing him, as though to nudge him awake.

Talen felt that push and the wail vanished and the roar came back for only a second and then it too went away. Talen found himself now in the calming black of dreamless sleep. Yet in the back was the glowing thought of Sephrenia. And slowly Talen could make out memories.

At first they confused him, because he could not see who he was, why he was doing what he was. And then, at a scene he quickly pushed away, he figured out it was Vanion's mind which now entertained him. With that he now searched for the mind nearest Vanion, and almost without going to a different mind, more like sliding from one half to the other, Talen found himself in with Sephrenia.

It was a garden.

He really might have expected something like this. She was Aphrael's priestess, and a garden was very much like something she would do. He walked down neatly trimmed paths that had finely clipped shrubs and flowers planted along side. On both sides of the path rose high, thick bushes that made it somewhat like a maze, but here and there were trees. He heard water running and the sound of Sephrenia's laughter. He ducked onto the garden and pushed his way between the branches of a willow.

Sephrenia looked up from her tea. "Talen?"

Talen had decided to not explain anything more than he had to. "Sephrenia, I need to know where Martel was killed. The exact place."

She looked at him. "This isn't my dream anymore, not the way it was at least."

"No. Please little mother, I need to know."

"You shouldn't hold grudges Talen, if that is what this is about. Besides, the Palace no longer exists, I don't know where on the ground it would be."

"Just show me in the palace. Just think about it, everything you remember." The dream immediately changed from the charming garden to the dark, forbidding and frightening palace. Sephrenia, without any hesitation of wasting time, stepped over to the spot she remembered Martel dying.

"It was around here. I don't know exactly where it was, but more or less around here."

"Thank you. Goodbye, Sephrenia."

"Goodbye, Talen."


	8. Ressurection

Chapter Eight

Resurrection

That was strange. It wasn't right. Why, Where, When, How?

The 'How' was the most important. Sephrenia blinked and wiped the sleep from her eyes. She reached over and shook Vanion. He groaned and looked over at her. "Yes, love?"

"Vanion, something's wrong. So very, very wrong."

Concern immediately filled his face. "What is it?"

"Talen was in my dream…well, that's not really important enough to explain it all now…I'll just have to explain it again, I'm sure. But Vanion, oh something's wrong with Talen…and it scares me.'

"Have you talked to Aphrael?"

"No, she hasn't talked to me in quite a while actually…"

"Then something's definitely up. You'd better talk to her now."

________________________________________________________________________

Talen blinked and shook his head. He was tired. It almost went beyond tired actually, bodily tired at least. He felt slightly drained in his thinking, and thoughts came sluggishly to him. But there was still much to do tonight, and he didn't have all that much time to spare. He stood up and brushed the dirt from his cloak.

Tynian had said that you didn't normally like to raise the dead at night. It spooked some people. But Talen wanted to get this over with. He wanted his information, and then he wanted to be rid of this place and it's memories and Martel. He didn't want to do this in the first place, but Elith…it was no matter. Elith was right; he couldn't let a stupid personal grudge get in the way of obtaining information. He walked to where Sephrenia had pointed as the place of Martel's final resting place. He glanced over and saw that Raven was awake and watching him.

"You may not want to watch this you know." Raven cocked an eyebrow at him. Talen shrugged. "Just thought I'd warn you."

He then turned back and started writing in the dirt. When he'd finished tracing out the circular seal, he stepped into it and began to chant in Styric like Elith had instructed him. He focused completely on the chanting, and he forced his will into it, shaping it into a much more potent spell.

The ground shuddered beneath him and a dull groan could be heard. In the dark, they could easily see a pale specter rise up out of the ground. Talen strained hard as the ghost fought against him. He was strong. Talen almost felt himself slipping out of his incantation. With a surge of strength he yanked the spirit up. Martel looked at them, hair still a stark white against the rest of him. He was dressed in full battle armor, but a large rent tore up the middle of his breastplate and black streaks showed the blood of his wound from so long ago. Talen stared at the man he had been taught to hate, and crumpled into a faint.

__________________________________________________________________

Nyph stared across the desert, the moonlight glancing off the dunes and the cold night air rushing across the sand, dragging some with it. There were a few fires back in camp, but out here there was little light, except that cast by the stars and moon. Nyph looked down at the robes he wore, the robes of Rendor. It was so odd, how this campaign had changed him, changed everything. He glanced back at the camp again.

There it stretched out, a sea of tents. He was amazed when he saw it from this distance. The way the army had grown, after just those first few strikes…and it continued to grow. And it was different. This had both city-dwellers and outlanders. They both flocked to this new banner. This banner that wasn't even waved by men of their own race. They flocked to everything Talen stood for, and to his handsome stand for them, and his eloquence and charisma. Nyph rolled his eyes.

Did that boy have any idea how much trouble he created by these little excursions he was prone to take? Nyph, could of course make himself look like Talen, that was easy enough. But Nyph had been a bandit, and while he could think on his feet, he was not oratorily gifted. So Lestav now wrote his speeches, but he felt like he might loose these followers without Talen, the true leader. The leader he would die for. It was scary really, how indoctrinated he had become. At first it was just these natives, but Talen was such a dangerous person with his charm.

Dangerous for the cause, if he no longer had it. Where was that damn boy? Didn't he know that they needed to move! He'd been gone off and on for the past few months, and the army, while growing all the time, was also getting restless. They needed action, they needed to move. And Nyph couldn't do that, he didn't know Talen's mind, what he had planned.

_Talen…come back to us._

__________________________________________________________________

The night breeze blew hard, and the sea spray drenched Sparhawk and Aphrael as they stood on deck. The orders from Dolmant had come to go to Rendor, and to take the Church knights as well. All of them. The fleet was behind them, prows splashing in the water and rigging creaking. They were to travel as far as they could up river, then disembark and start scouting. Start skirmishing; start taking back what was theirs. It was theirs, this land they did not live on, this home of another race, this troublesome land that had demanded to be paid in blood. This place that produced nothing, and cost everything.

Cost absolutely everything…_Oh Elahna_…

And here in this desert land, this place of exile he was once again returning to, was Talen, waiting for him. The killer of his brother, the betrayer of Elenia, of Elahna, of himself, of Aphrael. How could he?

There she stood, so much older than the little Flute he had once known. She had decided she had to grow up this time around. And here she was, getting so very close to becoming a woman. Danae stood against the rail and the wind had whipped her hood back and her hair flew about like a tattered flag. She was beautiful and so terribly dark at the moment. Sparhawk shook of these feelings as Aphrael muttered a small cry of surprise.

"What is it?" Sparhawk turned to her concerned.

"Sephrenia…shush!" Sparhawk didn't say anything more to her, knowing she was concentrating on Sephrenia, knowing the subject of their conversation very well. Sparhawk also felt distinctly stupid. How could they not even think of talking to Sephrenia about this? The one person who could help them the most, and they hadn't given her a second thought. The flurry of events had clouded his better judgment it seemed.

It was a few moments before Aphrael shook her head and turned back to Sparhawk, her eyebrows furrowed on worry. "Sparhawk, Talen contacted Sephrenia."

"Why would he do that?"

"He wanted to know where, exactly where, Martel was killed."

"Why, what could that possibly to for him?"

"Sparhawk, the only thing you would need to know the exact location for is necromancy. He wants to talk with Martel."

"He's dropped so low that he's going to Martel for advice. To that man that killed his own father!"

"Sparhawk…"

"He's insane, there's no other explanation for it. He's fighting a war he knows nothing about, taking revenge for nothing, destroying everything we ever fought to protect against Azash and Cyrgon. There's no logical reason for any of this!"

Aphrael looked down. "Yes, father, there is."

"What?" Sparhawk looked concernedly at Aphrael.

"Talen came to visit me, and I know why he's doing this…"

__________________________________________________________________

Talen found himself waking from one nightmare and into another. He propped himself up on his elbows, saw Raven sitting next to him, and the beautifully dead and semi-transparent face of Martel staring at him.

No matter what he had seen in his short life, nothing had prepared him for that. Martel smiled, and it was not pleasant. Talen stared at him. "Why are you here?"

Martel rolled his eyes. "Why am I here…hm, let's think about this. Not the sharpest sword in the armory, are we now?"

Talen felt his temper flare. "Shut up. Why are you still here? I fainted, my will no longer held you here, you should have gone back."

Martel's smile was hard as stone. "Well that's the thing…no dead man particularly likes to be awakened, but once I saw who it was who had called me, I thought perhaps you wanted answers. Turns out I put up too much of a fight at first, doesn't it?"

Talen glared at the translucent being, who continued. "So I was no longer struggling, but you were no longer holding me here…unfortunately, you didn't…release me, so to speak…so now I'm, in a way, trapped here."

Talen stared at the man. "You're trapped here?"

Martel glanced arrogantly at him. "That's what I said, isn't it? And since I'm here more or less permanently, why don't you give me a more permanent form?"

"I don't know how to create a body, I don't know how it's put together or…or anything like that."

"Ask him." Martel nodded his head at Raven.

"Raven?"

"He knows how."

Talen glanced at Raven, who nodded slowly. "Raven, how…" Talen trailed off. He saw a peculiar look on Raven's face and all desire to know how the child could do these things was silenced. He nodded. "Very well. But Martel, I brought you back. I refuse to give you a body unless you promise to help me."

"Of course, old boy, of course. Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise. Now, let's get on with it shall we?"

__________________________________________________________________

The steely gray dawn made the clouds look like molten lead, and in his mind's eye, Sparhawk could see the black-clad figures walk down to the well. He could feel his horses' muscles ripple under him, even through his black armor. He looked to the right and left of him, saw the ships docked at the port and the knights mounted on their horses, ready to ride down into the city and take it back.

The knight next to him carried a poniard with a snapping flag upon it. Elahna stood behind these commands, for it was the flag of Elenia. He glanced back at the ship once more, and there stood Aphrael watching. Sparhawk gave her a sad salute, and tapped his new war-horse's flanks. He missed Faran, who was probably munching on hay right now. The horse stirred beneath him and started the steep climb down the gangway. On cue all the other knights did the same, a mass of dully shinning metal against the gray sea and sky.

They rode through the silent streets, a long somber and silent procession. No one was out, they saw no other living being until they came to the square. A well stood in the middle and the women walking to it looked up, expressions hidden by the veils. The women stopped, lowered their water jugs, and for a moment the knights halted as well. Sparhawk pressed on, and a woman muttered a strangled cry. Sparkling water arced through the air and the black wraiths turned and fled. The silent women that had haunted Sparhawk's dreams for so long gained back their voices and screamed as their oppressors rode silently through the streets, coming to claim the spirit of these people.

Sparhawk divided the knights up and they went off in different directions to claim the city. Sparhawk moved on to quell any resistance.

__________________________________________________________________

Martel looked younger and it bothered Talen. It bothered him that Martel only looked a few years older than him. They walked down the streets of Jiroch, wrapped in dark robes. It was quiet and oppressive and Talen was jittery. Something was wrong.

No one gave them a second glance, no one gave anything a second glance. The people walked with their faces downwards, they hurried along, not daring to stroll leisurely. The sky was still dark and a wind blew. The weather was wrong. The sun wasn't even out.

Martel glanced about. "Well, you obviously have this place under control…are you sure you're really trying to get these people freedom, or just giving yourself power?"

Talen glanced up at him. "It's not like this...not usually….something's wrong."

"You've never seen this before?"

"No. Why, have you?"

"Oh yes…this is a mirror of the Rendor campaign, back when we first took it…this is how Eosian occupation looks."

"What!"

"See, there's your proof. Look at that man over there…see the way he's walking? That's a knight, no doubt about it."

Talen looked to where Martel had indicated and stopped dead in his tracks. Martel quickly grabbed his arm and pushed him onward. "Keep moving…you recognize him, don't you…" Martel glanced at the man's face. "Ah yes, that novice that was with you in Zemoch."

"Berit."

"I take it your previous party was fond of him?"

Talen looked at him, clearly stating that the answer to that question should have been obvious. "Get rid of him. Now." Martel spoke the death sentence as if stating the weather.

"…Why now…?"

"Hurt Sparhawk, hurt him so that perhaps he won't come back, he'll leave you alone. Do it now. They don't know you're back in Rendor, strike now while you have the element of surprise."

"You'll stay out of it then?"

"You want me to?"

"This is my fight." Talen growled.

Martel smiled again and finished his though. "And you still hate me."

Talen said nothing and took a step toward the unsuspecting Berit. Martel reached out and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back over. "I'll stay out of your fights, but you were the one who brought me back, so you'll have to make sacrifices for that. I have my own scores to settle, and you're not going to get in the way of them, understand?"

Talen glared at Martel and jerked out of his grasp, leaving Raven and Martel on one side of the street and stalking over to Berit.

__________________________________________________________________

Berit had of course noticed this disturbance, but not being able to see the men's faces, he had believed them to be a pair of Rendor men, one who wanted to pick a fight, the other cautioning him. It wasn't until the shorter of the two was halfway to him when he realized that they shouldn't have been able to see that it was a church knight, not a Rendorish man.

The man before him threw back his hood and Berit did a double take as Talen stood before him. His eyes seemed as though they were on fire and his face held a look of determination second to none. Berit tightened his jaw.

He had known, perhaps been the first to know, that Talen was in charge over here, but he had also known that he had been away for the past few months. He had no idea that he had returned, no idea he was here, in Jiroch, the occupied city. The key to this movement…or the key to the beginning of it. Berit thought Talen must be furious that this city had fallen so easily while he was gone. It was his fault in a way, leaving his army without its head. He stared into Talen's eyes, his face revealing nothing of the frost that bit his very soul as he gazed upon a one-time friend.

Talen's face contorted in anger as he snarled at Berit. "Get out of my city you filthy Eosian pawn. Take your troops and get out, get out before I destroy everything you could possibly hope to keep and cherish!"

Berit answered calmly. "Talen, we control this city. It's ours. Do your worst, we'll stand firm. It's ours."

"It's not! It's these people's, not your filthy church's, not your snotty aristocrats' or your self-righteous knights'! Get out, or I'll kill you!" Talen grabbed Berit by his cloak and shoved him away.

Berit glanced about. Too many people had seen that. If he didn't stand up to Talen, all the control the Knights had managed to grab would be destroyed. He unsheathed his broadsword part way. "Talen, leave. I don't want to kill you. Stop it now. You've nothing to gain, Stand down and no one gets hurt."

Talen whipped out his saber and Berit just managed to get his sword all the way out of the sheath to block his sweep. Berit narrowed his eyes at Talen. "You would attack the one with the greater force?"

"No, I would defend what has been taken. It is you who must attack me, Knight, show who is in charge here…" Talen let his blade lick Berit's steel, the slight grating sound and flurry of vibrations sending shivers down Berit's spine. Talen smiled. "Be careful that it is not you who are attacking the superior force here, you may have back up, but I don't need it."

Berit moved into action with three swift strokes, low, middle and high. Talen blocked easily. He smiled again. "Fool. You should have listened to Mirtai. How predictable." He mirrored Berit's moves, but slipped under Berit's defense and slammed his elbow into the side of Berit's head after the last stroke was blocked. "You went in order, the easiest to do in succession." He seemed to dance around Berit, feet light and agile. He stopped and grinned. " Mix it up a bit…"

Now Talen swept into his own flurry of movement, a graceful and deadly series of strikes that moved from high, low and middle to side to side. Berit barely managed to see where Talen would strike next, saving his skin purely from reaction rather than anticipation. One slash did get through, but barely, and Berit felt the slow, deliberate cut slice through muscle in his left bicep.

"And your sword Berit, so heavy, so slow…yes, it has reach, but do you have the speed to put that into effect?" Talen purposely narrowly missed a sweep from the broad sword. Berit gritted his teeth.

It wasn't that Talen was better than him that bit him to the core. It was that he didn't care, that this boy he had once taught history lessons to was playing with him when he could easily kill him. And his arm hurt….he had better stall, hope someone came…

"Talen why are you doing this, why are you fighting a war that doesn't have anything to do with you?"

"It has everything to do with me…" Talen's voice was low and dangerous, as thunder before the rain.

"So you'll betray your country, your queen, your friends?" He kept his voice even.

"You sound like my poor deceased brother. You should learn from his example." Haughtiness was etched into every word, and it seemed no one else could see the pain beneath that layer.

Berit, for one, didn't catch the hitch of pain. "You mock an honorable man, a man who loved you when you were the very sign of his Father's betrayal!"

"What do you know of it? Besides you were the ones who betrayed me! You know nothing, you understand nothing! You're living a lie, and it's not even a lie of your own making!"

Talen stretched out his hand in a grasping motion, and Berit felt his feet remove themselves from the ground as he was picked up and tossed like a rag doll by and invisible giant. He managed to hold on to his sword, but the breath was knocked out of him as he hit the dirt of the street. He coughed and looked up, seeing that a humongous crowd had gathered. They all stared at him silently.

The people didn't care that he was having the life beaten out of him, toyed with, tossed carelessly away. None of the women gasped or turned away, none of the men covered the children's eyes. No one gave him a look of pity. No one came to help.

Berit almost wanted to cry in rage. This was how they treated the invader, the occupier, the knights who came not to steal their women or lands, not to save them from a dictator, but to oppress them simply because of their religion. Because of the decision of an Archeplate many decades ago.

Berit rose to one knee and Talen's blade came flashing down. Berit painfully lifted his own sword to block. The force carried through his arm and he shuddered. The back of Talen's fist met his face and he lurched back on to the ground form the blow. Blood dripped from his nose.

He was dead, couldn't they see it? There was nothing he could do; he was just sitting here, waiting for Talen to finish him off. And they did nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing…

There was nothing anyone could do.

Through blurry eyes Berit saw two shoes place themselves in front of him. He slowly, painfully looked up, found himself kneeling before an impossible Talen. He swayed slightly and his vision darkened for a moment. Talen's hand was moving, and everything seemed so slow. The saber flashed up, blade catching the cold, distant, wrong light of the distorted weather of the desert. And it paused there it seemed.

And no one did anything.

How could they have not noticed this, Berit thought…this city was under occupation, how could his fellow knights not notice this?

Nothing…no one came…

Talen's blade started a slow yet inhumanly fast decent down….

No one was coming…

Berit closed his eyes.

No one was coming, but the blade…

No one was coming…

The blade should strike right….now…

And nothing happened…


	9. Sword in the Soul

Chapter Nine

The Sword in the Soul

In a way it was a relief. It saved him from something he hadn't wanted to deal with. It was no longer his frailty, his inability, but rather that he had been prevented from carrying it out. That made life in easier. And then all at once, full realization hit him and he was torn between being happy with this set of circumstances, or wishing to have been allowed to fulfill the death sentence.

Down came Talen's sword, but in jumped Aphrael, and up looked Berit, for what seemed an eternity to him was only a split second, and in the next he managed to abolish all of Talen's previous wishes, all his insecurities and doubts.

Talen had wondered, as that last sword stroke had fallen, if he would be able to kill Berit, if he would let himself cleave the head from his once beloved teacher's body, or if his unwilling spirit would pull that blow short, turn aside the stroke.

And in a blink Aphrael had dashed out and held her arm up, and the blade hit that, and did not cut her, did not make her flinch. Then his mind had cried out in exaltation, _I do not have to kill him!_ And the reasons for the outburst of joy was twofold. Talen still did truly care for Berit, and that was the reason he would not have been ashamed to divulge. But the second…oh to admit that he was glad he did not falter, not because of his inability, but because Martel would see, and he would know that Talen had allowed the personal feelings to snatch victory from his grasp. That what Martel thought of him, and what Martel said to him mattered. So his mind rejoiced in its shock, and then another realization hit.

Talen then saw, inexplicably, that he would now be forced to fight, to kill perhaps, if that was even possible, one more dear than Berit.

Aphrael….

And in that split second of shock, as he knew what had happened and what would happen, Berit looked up, and with one mind, thrust his sword up, and with waning strength pushed it through Talen's side.

________________________________________________________________________

Aphrael really didn't know if she would be quick enough. The morning had been quiet, and she had been left to puzzle over the unusual weather. She had begun to doze when she'd felt it, that surge of unrestrained, raw power. She sat up, felt rather than saw where it had come from and leapt from the window.

The air did feel alive, but she paid it no mind as she sped through the heavens towards the disturbance, towards what she knew was Talen. She dropped to the ground a block away and sprinted. The crowd, she saw, was large. It was large, and moodily silent. And then the sickening crack of flesh against flesh reached out to her and she shoved he way forward to see what had happened.

She didn't really have a plan though, no notion of what she was going to do. She had only known it was Talen, only ran to see what was happening, so that she could asses what was happening and then make her decision on how to act. That was no longer an option.

Talen stood there in a blaze of fury and his saber flashed up and then proceeded to fall with sickening finality. Towards Berit.

There was no thought, only movement, as she rushed forward, arm raised, and felt the blade hammer against her arm. It did not cut, or shake her really, not physically. But the sword seemed to go straight past her skin, as if it didn't need to draw blood to wound her. She stayed hard, silent, but her soul cried out and she knew know what would come.

She had not expected the blade to come from beneath her, to stab Talen in the side, to pierce, not his soul as the other blade had pierced hers, but to dig into flesh and draw blood, rip muscle.

She saw Talen stager and in one motion sweep his own blade free of her block and catch Berit through the chest.

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The fact that it never came down on Berit was both a miracle and a curse. He looked to see his saving angel and felt such warmth flow through his body. And then all at once sudden clarity hit, and he knew that Talen, with certainty, would kill him, and there was only one way to prevent that. With one purpose, and one mind, Berit used the last of his strength to bring his sword up, and stab forward, as his mind began to sink in the blackness of unconsciousness.

He did not see where his sword took Talen, he did not see him stagger back. He did not see the understanding that now filled Talen's eyes and he did not see the curved blade flick back up. He did not feel the cold steel pierce his chest, skin, muscle, lung…he did not feel the pain.

________________________________________________________________________

Talen staggered back, hand clutched desperately to his side. It wasn't a bad wound, as he had first feared. Berit was too close to fainting when he had struck; the blow had been too light. He looked back up in time to see Aphrael whip her hand out, pushing him away. He dug into the ground with his feet, the hard pack dirt scrapping against his boots as Aphrael's force shoved him back only a few feet.

She knelt down, crying, her blow had been pathetic because of her emotional state. The crowd was still silent. Aphrael was reaching for Berit, attempting to lift his head into her lap. Talen's voice lashed out. "Is that the best you can do, goddess?"

The crowd stirred slightly.

Her face was tear-streaked. "You want better? You're not a god Talen, don't pretend you are. You'll fail. You'll die."

"I know I'm not a god…and you're a sorry excuse for one…messing with us like you do. Why don't you tell your father to get out of here? Go back where we won't cause any more pain. Go mess with Dolmant's head for a change, get him to withdraw the Church."

"Dolmant's the Elene God's, I don't dare touch him."

"Oh? And who did I belong to? Who gave you permission to mess with me? Seems I was getting a long just fine without any gods."

"You don't know what you're saying!" Aphrael's voice broke into sobs again.

"I know exactly what I'm saying…now get out. This isn't your business. None of it ever was."

Aphrael remained on the ground, holding Berit's limp form for a long time. She said nothing, and no one moved; everyone was waiting for her answer. After a small eternity, she stood slowly up, gently laying Berit aside. She looked at Talen. "Talen, look at how you fight, look at what you are. In many ways you are like the gods.

"Look then, how you are changing things in the world, look how you are correcting what you deem is wrong, pushing what you deem is right, No one can stop you, no one can challenge you, because you seem all powerful. But your not, and you can still be wrong. I can still be wrong, and I am a god. You're right, I messed with your free will…I made a mistake; I'll never do it again. But what you're doing is even worse. You're messing with people's lives, their very lives, not their feelings!"

Talen cut her off. "People mess with other's lives all the time. The murderer down the street does it, generals do it, Sparhawk's done it, Elahna, everyone. Even if it takes a god to give life, it doesn't take one to take it away. You can't hold me to the rules of gods anyway…I'm not one."

"You're a human being Talen, you're right. And now you're not just challenging me, and what I've done, but you're killing others too, others that I—that we both care about. If you continue…I will fight you."

"It doesn't matter." Talen dismissed her claim.

"What do you think you're going to do? Kill me? I'm a god." Aphrael's was deadly serious.

Talen shot her words back at her. "What do you think you're going to do? I have the power of the gods and my own strength…the strength of those who need me."

"No! The strength of those who are using you! You're a thief Talen! A bastard child off the streets, you only got somewhere because I took an interest in you. And now here you are, acting all high and mighty, like you are perfect and the rest of us are ink-black with sins. Well, that's not how it is. You're just as bad as the rest of us, or maybe even worse, because you've adopted an ideal you've never even cared about before. Is this just your payback or are you using all these people—you want power and nothing more. You got played with and now you want your revenge. How petty."

Talen's face grew dark and he seemed about to snarl, but he regained control and relaxed, the dramatic change startling on his features. "I was young Aphrael, when I did those things…and how can you blame me for my birth, for how I was raised."

"How can you blame others for your own actions?! I, at least, am taking responsibility." Aphrael was working herself up to be mad, to not concentrate on how afraid she was, how desperate she was not to fight Talen.

Talen looked at her, then nodded. "All right then, Aphrael. I've been wrong. But you know what? Now I'm right. And I won't tolerate you Elenes on our land, on this people's land. Get off." He glanced down at Berit's prone body. "Or I'll kill him. He's not dead yet, but I can change that."

Aphrael planted her feet firmly in between him and Berit. "You'll have to get though me first."

"That can be arranged!" He pushed her with invisible force, and she almost fell, but managed to regain her balance. Talen had not expected her to fall, and so had moved forward, his blade curving out and striking her. It hit at her side, but did not cut any more than a paper sword might have.

"Do you ever think of the consequences of your recklessly used power? I do not, cannot, fight in the same manner you do because my mind comprehends the consequences…you are so blessed not to know." Aphrael pleaded with him.

"You seemed to take no regard to those consequences when you want to...you threw them away when you faced Azash, or so it seemed when the tale was recounted. You threw them away just now, when you feebly tried to strike out at me."

"I use these methods sparingly, you use them frequently, the consequences will begin to show, just wait."

"You grow tiresome, Child-goddess!" Talen threw all his will at Aphrael, and she seemed to reply in kind. Neither moved, and the crowd was still silent. Berit lay cold on the ground.

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Martel could feel the air come alive with power, and was slightly amused when he found he could actually see that power fizz and sparkle with brilliant lights. Talen's will was a cold fire, passionate, and just barely under control. Aphrael's seemed desperate, a last resort and like an unstoppable tide, eternal.

He glanced down at Raven and smiled, his face cold, malicious and haughty, as he knew what no one else did. Raven looked back up at him, expression steady, as if daring Martel. Martel's ice blue eyes stared into Raven's deep black ones and he shivered involuntarily, and then nodded solemnly to the boy, as a deep secret understanding had just passed between them.

Martel turned back to the battle. The sparkling lights of the two opponent's wills were not only meeting in the middle now, and collapsing as the met head on, but swirling in a spiritual meeting of cold and hot air. They came together in a whirlwind of flashing white, painful for him to look at for more than a moment.

And then he heard a collective gasp from the crowd, and risked another glance towards the clashing of wills. He wasn't sure, but thought that a visible ripple, much like a heat wave, was beginning to show through, to even the common folk. It coalesced into a shimmering tornado, rifting right into the natural world and then dancing back beyond normal perception.

He looked back down at Raven and saw the boy staring intently at Aphrael, and so turned to look himself. It took a moment for him to comprehend what he was seeing.

An aura seemed to build around her, as she gathered a portion of her strength to her. And then he saw her preparing to release it full bore into Talen and break him, so without knowing why he cried out, "Talen! Now!"

Talen did not look over to him but threw all he had forward at that instant, either trusting Martel implicitly, or instinctively, Martel didn't know which. Aphrael's stockpiled power met Talen's surge at the middle and the whole earth seemed to shudder. Both combatants were thrown back onto the ground, and Martel staggered, unwittingly putting a hand on Raven's back to support the frail boy.

The contact ground seemed to heave and cave in slightly, and where the shimmers once were was a jagged crack of blistering, incomprehensible color that writhed and flashed in mid-air.

Both Aphrael and Talen looked up as the tare contracted and then shot out, running through the air and stretching down until it touched earth. It rent the very ground and tore through the city.

It took a moment for Martel to comprehend the screaming and mass panic around him and it startled him even more when all the noise seemed to settle down suddenly.

Talen had stood up.

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It had been impossible not to see, and Sparhawk had a feeling he knew what it was and was fast to locate its origin. He had ordered what troops were with him to follow, and gathered all the Church Knights he ran into along the way. The people scattered as he and his knights sped into the square.

Sparhawk skidded to a halt, his jingling mail hushing as he stopped, and the thunder of footsteps behind him fading into the eerie silence of the scene.

Danae, sitting in the dirt in front of Berit's body, looked up at him, her eyes vacant and listless. Talen stood opposite of her, but he looked to be barely standing. Between the two was a clearly visible mark, as if someone had jaggedly drawn a line through the earth. It stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions. He stepped into the cleared space around Aphrael and looked around at the stunned and bewildered faces of the people. No one moved.

Neither Talen nor Aphrael said a word. The sky was still an uncommon cloudy gray. The wind blew and seemed to make the only noise in miles. Talen swayed unsteadily on his feet and looked as if he might collapse.

It was if a picture had come to life when the man dashed forward from the frozen crowd. The man was young, no more than twenty-five, tall and muscular with a shock of long white hair. Sparhawk's eyes widened as bells tolled in his head and the stench of sweat, fear and blood filled his nostrils.

The man held Talen up and turned towards Sparhawk. The retired Pandion blinked again as he thought he saw a sickeningly familiar, twistedly wicked smile dance on the white-haired man's features before disappearing with such an evanescence that it made him doubt it was there in the first place.

His voice was loud enough for all to hear, though he was not yelling. Sparhawk was sure it was only his head playing tricks on him. He couldn't _possibly_ really sound like that.

"It is a draw! Those Rendors who are with the_ Sa'hidi_ are welcome on this side of the city. No Churchman of Eosia is allowed to cross the boundary. Those of you who would like to stay under the…_protection_ of the Church, as I am sure they will call it, are free to remain on the sea side of the city." He looked directly at Sparhawk. "You have until tonight to get your men out of our side of the city."

Sparhawk could not help the strangled note in voice. "Who are you?"

The smile returned and there was no way to miss it or mistake it. "Don't you recognize me, old boy?"

Sparhawk's mind was clouded and he drew his broad sword, metal grating against the sheath in a quick rasp.

Martel put up both hands in a placating gesture. "Not here, not now, old boy; not when we've a moment of peace. But never fear, I've a special time and place set aside for our rematch. Last time you killed me, now it's time for payback…I suggest for now you head back to Eosia and reconsolidate your swiftly fleeing assets in this war."

Martel turned a still soundless Talen around and led him away from the scene, a small boy running after them. Sparhawk saw the common people beginning to move again, some silently running back to their houses, others slowly shuffling away, still in shock. His knights hadn't moved, and let themselves be pushed out of the way by the retreating crowd.

"Father!" Sparhawk jerked around at his daughter's cry. She was still on the ground cradling Berit's head. "We have to get him home…in bed, or he'll die!"

Sparhawk knelt beside her. "What about you, can't you heal him?"

"Sparhawk, I'm just your daughter, Danae…these people…I got careless, they saw me for what I was, the knights didn't, I suggest you keep it that way. I'm not even sure if I can really do anything as of now. I'm very tired…I need to rest before I can even attempt a healing."

Sparhawk nodded and turned to the knights. "Get a litter, quickly! We need to get Berit back fast." Three of the knights scurried off without hesitation, and Sparhawk knelt back down and lifted Danae into his arms. He smiled sadly at her. "I'm getting to old for this."

"You've been saying that for the past decade or so."

"Well, it's true."

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The guards came in soon. It was no longer a battle to win the Rendorish people; it was a battle to keep the Rendor land. The guards stood at the border of what was now called the 'free land' by the Rendors, and the lands held hostage by the Eosians, holding spears and makeshift shields. A crossbow was here or there among the troops, but for the most part they were limited to weapons of the hand-to-hand variety.

Pandion Knights also acted as border guards along the crevice that had resulted from Aphrael and Talen's battle. The Cyrinics had wanted the post, but Sparhawk had rejected that notion when he realized how thirsty they were for revenge for what had happened at the monastery.

Of course, Sparhawk and his companions had already left to regroup back home, to try and persuade the Archeplate to give up this war.

The _Sa'hidi _headquarters had been moved to the city, and the leaders of the movement were intensely discussing their next move. They had not procured an actual house, although many had been offered to them by the citizens of the city. Instead they remained in tents like the troops they had brought with them.

Talen sat on pillows along with the rest of his now generals, Raven and Martel standing in the background. "We need to cross over as they did."

Lestav glanced at him. "To Eosia, why? Our position is secure; they'll have a damn hard time recapturing this city much less the rest of the country."

"We convinced them that this isn't worth it, to leave us alone. We're almost there too, look how Martel managed to convince them to come to a temporary truce with us."

Zi'yal swished the wine in her cup around. "Who should go?"

"Me." Talen answered.

"No." said Martel. Talen spun on him, anger plain on his face.

"Why not?"

"You're the real leader here. The people follow you, and they need you here to keep them mobilized.'

Nyph joined in. "He's right Talen, we need you here. You've been away too much recently. I can look like you, sound like you, but I can't be you. I feel your loss more acutely than anyone else here, and I see what it does. We need you here. They know me, I myself am a weakness to them. We need to press our advantage."

"And your absence here is a weakness to us." Nyph's voice was pleading.

Talen stared hard at him, then glanced to Raven's face, which held no emotion, just mild interest. "Very well."

There was a collective sigh. Jiron looked around the room. "Then who will go? I don not think either Kaalb nor I should go, we embody the enemy in every way, shape, and form. No Rendor should go."

Elith's deep voice broke out. "I'll go."

"Elenes aren't really all that found of Styrics either you know…" Lestav's sarcastic voice chimed in.

"But the ones in charge respect them. I also have more experience in such things. Let me go."

Martel nodded. "Talen, do let him go, but contrary to what Jiron thought, I think you should send either him or Kaalb, along with some soldiers you trust. You need to look official, and you need protection. Or at least the appearance of protection, as I'm sure Elith can take care of himself." He nodded towards the older Styric. "Send at least a dozen."

Talen nodded, his expression dark. "Fine." He spoke without looking up to Jiron. "Take whoever you deem worthy. I'll contact you when you're over there."

Jiron nodded and he and Kaalb exited to tell the chosen troops. Talen looked up at Elith. "Be careful."

________________________________________________________________________

Archprelate Dolmant sighed and put his forehead into his hands. God, what do you wish of me?

It was desperately hard to know, desperately hard to think, to understand. If God wanted the heretics to be brought back to Him, why didn't He help, instruct? Dolmant had met the envoy from Rendor today, and he had been given serious doubts about the whole campaign now…especially after the case and point presented by Sparhawk.

The truth was, they didn't have the troops. The Church was still suffering from the losses from Klael's armies…not that Dolmant believed such a thing but…they didn't have the troops, even though years had passed. The people were just getting used to peace again, peace with their rulers in their own lands, not off gallivanting through Tamuli or some other place.

And even now he began to doubt the, dare he say it, righteousness of his crusade. The envoy, a Styric by the look of him, had made an eloquent point, saying all they wanted was freedom to choose what religion they wanted, peace in their own land. It made sense…and yet, God had instructed them to teach the true religion, not allow heresy.

But perhaps one could do so without the…violent means of the past. Perhaps there could be peace. Dolmant sighed again. He would need time to think this over, time to pray. But he had a sinking suspicion that he would acquiesce to that Styric's request. He had grown far too easy going with them because of Sephrenia, he decided. Well, they weren't that bad…

A noise from outside his study doors startled the Archprelate and he looked up, surprised. He looked up to catch a blade in his throat, and then looked no more.

________________________________________________________________________

Sparhawk knew he should go to the Archprelate's palace, he should see the scene, try to make sense of it, but he couldn't. He couldn't stand to see another close friend's body carelessly left in a room, the life stolen from it.

Sparhawk was not a weak man; he did not break at the sight of death. He hadn't with Kurik, certainly. But to see someone he knew not killed in battle, but in the dark of night, alone and defenseless…it chilled him to the bone. And twice, maybe three times in such a short span of time. Berit was healed, but hadn't woken up. Dolmant was just like Khalad. Gone.

Now was such a hard time. So foggy, and nothing was clear-cut. In all of Sparhawk's years, he had only felt this once before, when Martel was still alive…

Still alive, then bloody hell, what was he now?

He had seen Martel, he had talked to him, heard him, watched his smile creep across a face he had never owned, and yet was distinctly his. But that was just it. Martel had never looked like that, and Martel was older, by many years, than that figure that had appeared before him in Rendor.

Bloody Hell. _Kurik…what do I do? Who do I turn to, whom do I trust?_

Talen had turned against him, Elahna's anger burned at him, Martel was back, Aphrael was depressed, and it seemed, matched in power, Khalad was gone, Berit as good as gone, and now Dolmant just like him.

Just like him….

Talen.

_Who do I turn to?_

Who had always been there for him? Kalten, certainly, but he wasn't the sort you went to for advice…not on politics anyway, girls perhaps, but not affairs of state. He needed someone who knew him, and who knew the ways of state, the ways of war…and who would not shirk from what had to be done.

Talen.

Sparhawk's eyes took on a glint of determination. The Rendors did this; it was just like Khalad's murder. And if Sparhawk had before hesitated in his resolve to kill Talen, he did not now. It was one step too far, the wound now too deep. He would kill Talen, if he died trying.

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Elith was sipping tea by the fire when the pounding began at the door. He rose to his feet and glanced out the window to see a dozen of the Archprelate's guards crowding the street before the house. He ran out of the room and into one corridor, yelling for his companions to wake up. A few of the thirteen Rendors had appeared in the hallway when the guards broke the door down with a splintering crash.

Elith began muttering in Styric and his fingers flew through the motions accompanying the incantation. Fire sprang up around the guards, but not before one of them shot off his crossbow, a bolt finding one of Elith's companions in his throat.

The others took a moment to comprehend what was going on, and they either unsheathed swords, or ran back into their rooms to collect their weapons. Elith vaguely recognized that Jiron had run down the stairs to engage the guards, the others following his lead. Elith continued to mutter and he released small spells to aide his companions. He cramped one man's leg, broke another one's sword and tripped another, allowing the Rendorish soldiers to finish off most of the guards relatively fast, and with only one more casualty.

The flames Elith had started burned on, and it was clear that this house would not survive, but before Elith commanded the Rendors to gather their things and get out, he took a piece of chalk out from his sleeve and began furiously scribbling on the floor. The circle was completed and he stepped back and chanted, wrestling with the newly deceased, who was young and strong.

In the heat waves, it seemed almost natural how the ghost shivered into being and stood before the group, held only by Elith's strength.

"Why did you attack us?"

"Attack?" The ghost asked. "You know why. For the assassination of Archprelate Dolmant!"

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It was Aphrael's turn to watch the haggard form of her father slumped in his saddle. It was a cold morning as well, early fall turning more cold, even only a few miles north of Cimmura. It was not raining, but the sky was overcast and the wind blew in short, sharp gusts. Aphrael did not shiver. She could warm herself up, if she liked. But the cold seemed to fit her mood, and she let it seep into her as it would if she really was her mother's daughter.

That was where they were going after all. Back home, if you could call it that now. And once again they were in disguise. They had even been in disguise back in Chyrellos, no one but Dolmant had known they were there.

Until Dolmant had been assassinated. There was quiet pandemonium building now, throughout all of Eosia. Word had not yet reached all the countries, but it was growing. Aphrael looked back over at Sparhawk. That was two; two friends that had been killed in this, what was it, war? Undeclared war then…except, Talen had warned her. Her dark hair whipped in the wind and a solitary tear trickled its frozen way down her face at the memory.

And yet, even though he had killed Khalad, and most likely Dolmant, maybe killed Berit, had certainly meant to, destroyed her family and fought and tried to kill her, she could bring herself to even imagine trying to kill him. She knew she could, she was able to…but she would not let herself even think of the possibility.

When she had destroyed Azash, it had been easy. He was easy to hate, a wicked and disgusting creature, devoid of any feeling but lust. Talen was not like that. Even had she never known him, he was not like that. He was not that pure, simple evil; he was marbleized with good and bad, pocketed with rough edges and smooth as silk. He was so difficult…and he was her enemy, now more than ever. He wasn't just fighting for independence; he was declaring Holy War on the entire Eosian continent.

She looked back at her father and sighed. It would almost be easier if the world had been destroyed.

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Sparhawk and Danae walked through the gate of the castle. Sparhawk was nervous. He didn't know how Elahna would react to his being there, and Talen obviously not dead. He did think she would kill him of course, she didn't hate him…but he imagined she would not take it well.

He and his daughter walked through the palace unchallenged towards the throne room, both silent. When they approached they saw that the doors were shut and a guard stood in front. He snapped smartly into place at their approach and Sparhawk went up to him and asked, "Is the Queen inside?"

"No your Highness, she is in her state rooms, I believe."

"Thank you." Sparhawk turned on his heel and strode towards them, Danae in his wake, still silent and pensive.

There were no guards outside the doors of the stateroom, which worried Sparhawk slightly. He knocked politely, and was somewhat startled when the door swung open by itself.

The room was dark except for a large fire burning in the fireplace, two chairs pulled up beside it with their backs facing him. He cleared his throat. "Elahna?" There was no answer, although he could clearly see that someone, a woman, was sighting in the chair. He walked slowly forward until he was right behind the woman, but did not look at her. "My Queen?"

The woman stood slowly up and Sparhawk's eyes widened as Sephrenia smiled at him. "She's in the bedroom Sparhawk. She's waiting for you."

Without thinking Sparhawk knelt down and held out his hands for his little mother's blessing. Then he looked quickly up and almost ran to bedroom.

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Ehlana looked over at Sparhawk and smiled, the pillow creasing beneath her head.

"I'm glad things are better now."

"Me too."

A slight frown passed over her face. "Except they're not really, are they?"

Sparhawk sighed. "I suppose not. I didn't complete your order, I'm afraid."

"I wish I could make a joke about that, smile, turn it into some intimate forgiveness, but…" she smiled wistfully.

"You can't. It's too close to home. It's Talen."

"No, it's more than that, to you, to all of us. It's Kurik, it's Dolmant, it's Khalad, Berit, Martel, and…our daughter, Danae. But it's even more than those things that touch our personal lives. It's Rendor, it's our religion, their religion, their land, our sovereignty, and peace. Is religion worth war?"

Sparhawk turned on his side and looked at her. "Ehlana, I'm not a religious man. I talk to a goddess every day, I'm her father, I would kill for her, but only because I know her. I wouldn't kill for her siblings, not all of them. I kill for our God for a living, or at least I did. I put my life on the line and took others for our Church, but in all reality, I don't really worship our supposed God. Only out of habit.

"But these Rendors, they are willing to send generations to their deaths for their belief in God. I can only think that they have reached a more perfect relationship with Him than I. I suppose because I know that He, and others exist, that I do think wars are worth religion. Because I've seen what different gods can do. Look at Azash, look at Cyrgon. That's our future, physically and spiritually. We have to."

Elahna sighed. "We have no choice then, do we? We can't just make it personal, can't just take Talen out and have it be over with. It's bigger than that."

Sparhawk nodded. "It's always been bigger than that. But even if it hadn't, they killed Dolmant. That guaranteed its importance."

"To Rendor then?"

"To Talen, whether in Rendor, or not."


	10. Lament

A.N. Yeah, I know, I took me forever…no excuses….anyway, we are nearing the end…but this isn't it .I have one or two more chapter to go, so don't get all weirded out by the ending of this one. Actually I really like how this chapter turned out…the end is okay, but the scene right before the end was a lot of fun to write, and I hope it's a lot of fun to read…if you have a twisted sense of humor like I do (see, I can put humor into my stories…I'm just a lot better at tragedy….which is probably why it's tragic humor…you'll see) so enjoy and review! (in case any of you haven't figured this out yet, I don't post until I've gotten at least one review….)

Still won't let me do my divider….mutter mutter mutter…

Chapter Ten

Lament

Lestav had never been in a battle. There weren't many in Tamuli, not anymore. He hadn't been present during the last war fought, supposedly against Cyrgon. Lestav was a trader in information, the most valuable merchandise he would say, and he had pieced what he could of the confrontation together. Oscagne and Itagne had been presenting a story very openly…something about trolls, but Lestav suspected (he always suspected) that there was more. So he had heard of the otherworldly soldiers the Elenes had fought. He had shuddered, just thinking about the numbers and the strength (although the Peloi horseman he had heard it from might have been exaggerating, they tended to do that). Lestav had still never been in a battle and he was a complete virgin to the fear that now engulfed him.

It was the night before battle…The Battle, really. The sky was dark and the stars shown brilliantly, the first clear night in over a month. The moon was bright, although it was not full, and the light cast shadows in the valleys of the dunes, and highlighted the ridges of them. Lestav watched from the ring of the campfire. He could see pale light against the horizon, and he shivered at the silhouette that stood alone on one of the dunes tops. Nyph had left the fire earlier, but no one had followed.

He had been the first, Lestav knew; the first to find Talen, and bind himself to him as they all had, although perhaps not in so many words. And Nyph was the illusionist, the one who had to act Talen's part whenever he was away. He knew him best because of it, and he was worried. Lestav didn't really know why Nyph was worried. Talen didn't seem to be, but the half-styric was. He was very nervous, and not just because of the coming battle.

The wind stirred again and the harsh sand stung his uncovered skin. He kicked at it. Desert, why on earth did they choose desert? There was nothing here, not really. Except a wayward and backward people. Yet he had come, had followed Talen, been drawn to him with very little fight. In a way Lestav understood it.

Talen had a magnetic personality, even in his now slightly morbid state. He had the air of a hero, a hero of a lost cause. Only it wasn't like that. He made it seem as though the cause that once was lost now had hope. He made the cause that had absolutely nothing to do with Lestav of Tamuli become a cause Lestav would die for. To some extent Lestav could manipulate people's thinking, and he knew that he was not being manipulated. It went beyond his cheap tricks and perverted Styric magic.

The end of the journey was coming, and they were all being pulled inexorably in towards the center. Towards Talen.

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Nyph looked up in time to see the dawn rise early and pale over the sands. He saw that enemy camp, so close, was not yet up and he saw that his own camp was barely stirring. He had never been a particularly brave or strong man, and he felt his insides congeal at the thought of what was to come. Nyph thought it was all very poetic.

He headed back towards camp, glancing at the bodies of his comrades slumped by the dying fires. He walked silently past them and on to Talen's tent.

He pulled back the flap and looked in. Talen was already up, strapping on his armor. Nyph let a small nervous smile slither onto his face and vanish just as quickly. "Even a god needs armor I guess."

Talen turned towards him and restrained a smile. "I'm no god."

"So you keep saying." Nyph went up to him and started helping him buckle on his breastplate.

"Nyph, I want you to stay near me during the battle, be my standard bearer."

"I was a bandit Talen, I know how to fight."

"But you were not meant for it, my friend. You know that as well as I."

"I will stay with you then, not for anything I was meant for, but because you ask it of me."

Talen bowed his head. "You always did, you know."

"Did what?"

"Trust me, without question. Even after we had just met."

"I owed you a debt of life."

"Do you still owe it to me?"

Nyph was careful in answering. "In some ways. But I have followed you for more than a debt now. For a long time. This means more than any debt."

"Worth dying for?"

"Yes."

"You say that without hesitating. It frightens me."

"I don't understand."

"That you will die for a cause that was never really ours to being with, in a country that was never ours."

Nyph was quick to reply. "You mistake my meanings; however, where else do you think the rain must start after a drought of freedom?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Talen's lips. "Where it is most needed I suppose. In the desert."

"Talen, you will kill for it."

Talen sighed. "And be killed, I now fear. If not now, then later."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I had a past with the people I'm fighting, the leaders I'm killing. I killed people I once fought beside."

"The one from the city, he survived."

"Berit? Yes. Barely, from what I understand."

"Sa'hidi, do not start doubting know. Not after so much." Nyph pleaded.

Talen turned toward him and smiled. "I suppose you're right. I just think like this because of the battle. I expect this will decide it."

"We can win it. The Elenes are still recovering from the Tamuli episode."

"They are an army of magic users. They are veterans. We are shopkeepers and nomads."

Nyph shook his head in mock amazement. "Yes, that's what we are. But we have one who vies with gods. We have one who has contended and lived."

Talen turned towards him, his mouth open to speak, but he remained silent for a moment, thinking. When he spoke his voice was very soft. "Nyph, this isn't for me. It's for them."

"I will die for you. Loftier goals are too high." Nyph looked down.

He heard Talen walk past him, the tent flap falling quietly. Nyph checked his own blade girded on his belt and followed.

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Sparhawk was angry.

He was angry that he could not make himself angry….if that made any sense. He sat in full armor, sharpening his sword, waiting for the troops to finish suiting up. He kept trying to think of everything that Talen had done. Killed Kahlad, killed Dolmant, almost killed Berit, hurt Danae, brought Martel back, made Elahna furious at him, and now was going to cause the death of how many Elene and Rendorish soldiers? But try as he might, Sparhawk could not make himself as angry as he wanted to be. The main problem, he suspected, was that pain came with each memory. Not just pain over what Talen had done, but over the fact that Talen had done it. That twinge of sadness, the wondering if he might have been able to keep Talen from doing what he had done if he had treated the boy differently.

A younger Pandion walked up to him. "My Lord? The troops are ready and in position. We wait your orders."

Sparhawk rose in the glinting dawn-light and mounted his horse. He missed Faran, but the horse was far too old to being doing anything really. He felt the sand give under his horse's feet and was glad for his exile so many years ago. He would not have known how to handle his horse this well otherwise. Sparhawk looked over his shoulder. Unfortunately, not all the other Knights of the Church had had that fortune. While flat sand was easy enough, the dunes were causing them serious grief.

He reached the top of the dunes and looked back down. There was a mass of shining armor, a sea that rippled and glistened in the sun. Sparhawk sighed. It would blind the enemy sure enough. The Rendors wouldn't be able to use archers, but every knight was also blinding the man in back of him.

For a small instant the idea of a rousing speech flitted through Sparhawk's head. He quickly banished it. There was no speech to be made. No rousing one. What would he say, 'rise; let's burn these infidels for wanting their freedom'? There really wasn't a way he could make this battle sound good or glorious or even honorable. The church wanted it…Dolmant would have wanted it.

He turned back to where the enemy's camp had been. He faced their army now, row upon row of men wrapped in black cloth, only their eyes visible. No archers. Talen was using his knowledge of Eosia to plan. The Rendorish infantry knelt in front, sparse cavalry behind them. That was the Church's one advantage. Heavy Cavalry. The horses would slam into the opposing troops and neither blade nor spear would be death's instrument, but blunted, thundering hooves.

Sparhawk unsheathed his sword and let the cold morning light catch on it. It was not with the mad glory of battle that he began his charge forward, nor was it with the rage he had faced Martel with so long ago. It was set determination borne only of years of fighting battles he never really cared about. This one was different of course, he cared very much, but he wished it was not him leading it.

The other horses followed him, his single pounding joined with a roar of thousands more. It was quiet. No war cries and no screams of terror from the enemy, just the everlasting pounding of hooves on sand, kicking it up behind them.

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Talen sat tall upon Knightmare. He looked very imposing in the black Rendorish robes, like all his soldiers only with all his long hair free and blowing in the slight breeze. The Church heavy cavalry came thundering towards them. The lone figure that had begun the charge, Sparhawk he assumed, was now swallowed up by the mass of flashing knights pounding forward. Some of the men were starting to fidget even though Talen had told them what had happened. Even as he yelled "Hold!" to his lines, he sent the command to all his captains spread throughout the line, and they shouted it towards their men.

The charge came on and as the enemy horses closed the distance, even Talen began to feel adrenaline pumping through his veins. He looked to Martel on his left and Nyph on his right. Martel flashed him a reassuring smile, utterly confidant as always. Nyph looked straight ahead. Talen was somewhat nervous, as he had never commanded an army before. He had never really commanded anyone in battle before. But he had seen battles, and he knew what would happen. Just a little closer.

The horses couldn't stop now, not if their riders pulled with all their strength on the reins. The knights relied too much on their mounts. "Lances!" Talen yelled, and the men waiting stiffly immediately drew them up at an angle. The knights were close enough that Talen could see the sick realization on their faces. They pulled back, but could not stop.

The thundering came to shattering halt as the sea of horses broke upon the lances. The screams of men mingled with that of their mounts and blood pervaded the air in a mist. "Cavalry, Forward!" and Talen pushed his own horse with them and into the fray.

The reality of true battle broke upon Talen as he heard the sound of death multiplied a thousand times. Killing one person, alone in the quiet was nothing to being in the midst of hundreds of dying men. For a moment his drive faltered, but he saw Nyph determinedly kill a knight and he fought on.

The din was incredible, and the ring of steel clashing against steel rang in Talen's ears. The loudness was nothing Talen felt compared to a sudden quiet in one corner of his mind, a quiet that followed one horrible scream. Lestav was dead. In his sudden grief Talen only noticed the blade coming swiftly toward him, and Nyph riding forward to take the blade himself. Talen's instincts took over and he hardened the air in front of Nyph, created an invisible shield that immediately stopped the enemy's strike.

A new awareness filled Talen and with a sharp, sweeping gesture he sent a dozen or so knights, some of which he knew, to their deaths, crushing their organs in his mind. The horses screamed when the bodies exploded in their saddles, and caused more mayhem among the troops. Another knight rushed him from behind and Talen swept around and sent the man high into the air to impale himself on pikes raised high. The Rendors rushed forward.

Zi'yal was hurt…but quiet and Talen heard her mind-whispers telling him of her life and now her death. But over that quiet pain of her death his own soldiers swept forward and unknowingly made the Elenes pay. It was the loss of heavy cavalry that made the made the difference, and that difference was starting to show.

Talen killed another dozen men, feeling a slight drain, but ignoring it. He could win this. He could make it all work out. The Elenes knew what he was doing now and a slow silence now filled the air. Talen readied himself for another attack, leveling it at the knights now quite a distance away, when it was blocked.

Aphrael stepped forward and the knights fell back.

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Martel watched the battle between the goddess and Talen with half lidded eyes. They were holding ground evenly, and unless something very dramatic happened, they would stay that way. This wasn't his battle. It never had been, and it never would be. He had helped the boy for his own purposes only. He had struggled to keep his spirit on earth when Talen had fainted and he had sacrificed his own wants so that when Martel went after what he wanted, Talen could not stop him. And now it was time to collect.

Martel skirted the troops until he found himself a Pandion body that was roughly his size. It was no use fighting Sparhawk any other way than the way in which he was accustomed to. He stripped the body of armor and donned it. He then belted his broadsword, a thing Talen had had the strange little boy who traveled with them, form out of thin air. He moved on. The troops were two hundred or so meters apart and with all the bodies strewn between the two sides, it wasn't difficult to cross from one side to the other.

It was very amusing how he could move among the mass of knights unnoticed. If he had come to assassinate Sparhawk, it would have been ridiculously easily. But Martel wasn't satisfied with just killing Sparhawk. He was going to fight Sparhawk in a twisted version of what had happened in Azash's temple. And this time, he was going to win.

He stood right behind Sparhawk and found it almost impossible not to laugh aloud. But he controlled himself and let an icy smile creep onto his face. He tapped Sparhawk's shoulder and was delighted with the surprise and horror that registered in the other man's eyes.

Martel didn't take his eyes of his old friend and enemy's face, but he heard the great of steel on scabbard and could not help the wild grin that spread across his face. The men beside Sparhawk and Martel heard the sound as well and turned to look at them. Sparhawk glanced at the men, signaling them off with his eyes. They backed away to form a wide circle around the two opponents. Martel had to admire the way Sparhawk commanded obedience.

Martel's own blade snaked out of his sheath and he lunged. There were no words between them and the stillness rang with their blows. It was a pre-destined dance that had already occurred, but with a very unsatisfactory ending. The sand made moving too fast hard and the sun beat down hard on the armored men as they clashed and then pulled back.

More and more men were looking on now, but Talen and Aphrael ignored them. Martel wondered if even this fight might inadvertently help Talen by distracting the child-goddess. If he got too close to killing Sparhawk, he might. And killing Sparhawk was getting more and more certain. The champion was old, and his body was tiring. Martel had been dead and now occupied a very young body that was faster, quicker to react and stronger. The advantage was beginning to show.

Chop, chop, swing, stab, slash, slash, parry, twist the blade and dance away. It was horribly easy now. And the child-goddess wasn't paying attention. She wouldn't see and she wouldn't stop him. Defeat was in Sparhawk's eyes, and a triumphant light shown in Martel's blue ones. One more succession of blows and Sparhawk would be his. He jumped into the routine. It was time to finish it and it would be finished and oh the glory and happiness and satisfaction I've won and here it comes the very last blow and then he will be a lifeless corps the brother I once loved and isn't that what Talen thought and Talen killed his brother I think I heard and here it is it's over and done and one last strike and he's—

There was a crunch just like there should have been, but it came from the wrong body. Martel looked down and seemed slightly surprised and puzzled by the fact that he now had the blade of a pole-arm sticking out of him. He gasped loudly in the silence that now filled his ears. He could no longer here the raged breathing of the old man, of Sparhawk but he could here his own lungs drag at oxygen and struggle to drag it down into him. He could not here the rustle of the troops or the sounds of Talen and Aphrael's fight, but he could hear blood bubble and drag thickly at every move he made. Martel could see Sparhawk, above him, but it was not Sparhawk who had hit him. What fool had interrupted them and finished him and why oh why did it always have to end this way? Why was he always the one to loose?

His vision was starting to cloud and he couldn't feel his legs, but Martel was pretty sure he was on the ground. And now his blood wasn't working properly, it had started doing odd, not right things, like coming out of his mouth in a trickle, which wasn't that bad, but Martel was pretty sure blood wasn't supposed to do that. What damn fool did this?

The nasty numbness had started to creep up from the legs but it hadn't yet reached his abdomen, and Martel wished it would because his stupid nerves had finally started working and he could finally feel the excruciating, burning pain. It had taken bloody long enough…and now, he thought, I really need to know what bastard did this to me.

He looked up at the cloudy Sparhawk and began to turn his head but he found his head would not go more than 90 or so degrees and then his body started really hurting. He fell onto his hands and more blood dripped from his mouth. It hurt so much to do that, he decided, because the pike was still sticking through him. The idiot hadn't had the courtesy to pull the foreign object back out again. And this of course meant, somewhere in the back of Martel's brain, that he would die very slowly, because as long as the damn piece of wood and metal was in him, he wouldn't bleed very fast (not that bleeding to death was a very fast way to go in any case) but now he would bleed even slower. Well, he though, it gives me time to kill the bloody bastard who did this to me.

He drew another loud, ragged breath and then exhaled. The white bangs that fell in front of his face were now flecked with red. He slid his eyes over and looked up, but the sun was there and the man was a big black blob and there was this funny haze around Martel's vision. Well, no matter, Martel thought. He slowly pulled a long dagger, needle-like, one he had stolen from Talen (and one that had killed Martel's own henchmen) and slowly, painfully Martel began to stand up.

He could just see the man and Martel's eyes widened in surprise. The man cocked his head to the side and Martel heard him like he was talking with a mouth full of cloth.

"I heard you were an expert at back stabbing, so don't look so surprised."

Martel swayed slightly and tried to look weaker then he already did. It took and amazing amount of concentration to get words out of his mouth. "You can't backstab…if I've never…really been fighting for you…"

The man smiled a bit. "Well then, you just played into his hands…and out of mine. Couldn't afford it." He turned and no one said or did anything. But Martel, who staggered forward and stabbed the man, who let out a piercing shriek that both broke the silence and mended it because everyone stopped, even Talen and Aphrael and the whole army turned, but most couldn't see.

The man lurched away and Martel fell on his stomach and the blade moved and gods of Styricium, it hurt. Martel could only see a shadow drop beside him and felt so far away, the hand pick up his. He knew that touch and he smiled even as his eyesight failed. "Well," he said, but wasn't sure if his vocal cords were working, "I tried. The gods always did like you best."

Sparhawk said something but Martel couldn't hear it and his vision was almost all black now. He wasn't dead, he knew, but things had stopped working the way they were supposed to. And then light started coming back into his mind, and Martel knew that wasn't supposed to happen. He had died before, and there wasn't any light then. He decided to analyze what this light could mean because he was swiftly loosing interest in everything else. Well, it couldn't be heaven, because there wasn't one, and even if there was one he hadn't done anything particularly good in his short new life so he wouldn't be going there. It wasn't hell because hell should have a fire-flicker light except there wasn't a hell because he had died before and if there had been a hell, he would have gone to it.

Now his vision was clearing and that defiantly wasn't right. Now that he was resigned to die again, why did people keep interrupting him? Fine, he had accepted that he would never beat Sparhawk (not because of Sparhawk's skills but because he had all the gods on his side and Azash had died and in twenty-twenty hindsight Azash probably wasn't the best ally of all time to have chosen.) So just let me die and for heaven sake don't let anymore damn necromancers traipsing over my grave and decide on a whim, 'golly, let's see who died here!' because I swear if they do I'll drag their souls back down with me.

It was a bit of an annoyance when the boy appeared before him. Raven. Martel looked at him and rolled his eyes, but the boy wouldn't go away. So he tried shutting his eyes, but he couldn't and then he remembered he was dead, or dying or something. The boy most have tattooed himself on the back of his eyes, Martel decided. Damn, he thought, I don't want to go looking at some kid. His annoyance was getting to the point of extreme (why couldn't he just die!) when he felt a decided tug around his midsection (some dolt probably thought he was dead and decided to pull the pike out of him. He had wanted it out earlier, but no that it was there; Martel found he rather liked it where it was, as long as he could still feel things (such as pain).

And then he was standing next to Raven.

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There was something happening over there, Talen knew, but he couldn't afford to let his guard down. He couldn't let his attention wane. It was only by a fierce concentration that he had managed to keep Aphrael at bay so far. He had had to dismount so the horse wouldn't keep moving, and Nyph had come with him, signaling the troops to retreat a bit. There was definitely something to be said for experience. He wished whatever was happening would go ahead and stop. He wanted to know what was going on, and his want was distracting and frustrating.

He wrenched his mind back to watching Aphrael, blocking her attacks and thrusting and probing with his own. She was like nothing he had ever experienced…and dangerously so. Aphrael showered him with images to distract him from her and what she was doing. He had thought himself equal with her when he had fought her the first time. And perhaps he was, but Aphrael had centuries more experience, and when she wasn't in a state of emotional wreckage, she used the experience.

Talen sent another thrust of energy in response to a particularly vivid set of images that had almost sent him spinning into whiteness. The euphoria of the fight was the most dangerous thing in this battle. Where as before giving oneself to instinct was a bit of an advantage, now it was fatal. These attacks could not be repelled by instinct, and the thrusts would go nowhere without intense concentration.

It was starting to wear on him. Aphrael was a goddess, she was used to splitting herself…but Talen's mind was growing tired. His vision wavered from time to time, but for the most part he could keep it steady and clear. Movement kept catching his eye. And there was someone beside him (He didn't dare look away from Aphrael to see who) and he couldn't spare the time it remember who it was. They kept moving though, and holding him steady. Talen wasn't sure whether to hate this person or thank them.

To Talen the world consisted of only Aphrael, but whether he acknowledged it or not, the rest of the world was there, and it acted upon him.

At first he really didn't realize it. But something tore his eyes away from Aphrael. He flew off his feet, choking on sand as he lifted his head to look and find out what had happened. Elith stood above him and he blinked in surprise. "Elith?"

There was a cloud of dust around them, and Talen could see neither Aphrael or his own army.

Elith said nothing but lowered his hand to Talen's upturned head. He ran his long fingers into Talen's hair almost caressingly, until he pulled sharply. Talen let out a whimper and shut his eyes. His head hurt and he couldn't figure out what was going on.

"Look at me boy." Talen opened his eyes and saw the man who had started this entire crusade holding a knife—his knife(with blood already on it….) in front of him. "Don't turn away from death. That way I'll be able to raise you from time to time without guilt."

"What?" Talen blinked and then struggled. Elith tapped each of his limbs and they would no longer respond to Talen's mind. There was a mixture of sadness on the man's face.

"I'm not a vain man. I will not recite my plans to you, but know that you die for a better world of my own making."

This wasn't making sense. Elith had had this idea in the beginning, it was all his. Talen felt the cold of the knife on his throat. Someone was rushing over, but Elith's hand shot out and Talen recognized Nyph being thrown to the ground. "You're one of us?"

A cruel smile cracked Elith's lips. "Us?" just how many of "us" do you think there are? I am heaven's abomination and heaven's deliverer. Only we two have broken the bonds of this world. Only we two have the power to hold our cruel gods in check. But those who are not for me are against me. You gain too much power too quickly. Time to end it all."

The steel cut into Talen's neck but he managed to whisper and that stopped Elith.

"What was that?"

"Raven."

The boy was by them then, Talen didn't know how long he had been there. Elith's eyes widened and he swiped at the boy with the knife. Talen shouted and the blade passed into Raven's body. And it came clean through. Raven cocked his head.

Elith snarled. "What is this?"

Talen smiled just a bit. "He's one of us too."

Raven did not look at him. "No." he sighed deeply. "No, I'm not one of you. I'm sorry, Wolf." Raven turned to Elith. "I'm sorry for you too Elith. But I cannot allow you to attain your goal."

"Wha—"Elith's eyes grew wider still. He slumped and Nyph stood up from behind him, bloody sword in hand. Without Elith holding him up Talen slumped to the ground, his body still not responding. Raven looked down at him, although it was not a look of kindness.

"I'll stay with you, but they will not see me." And then Nyph knelt quickly beside him.

"Sa'hidi, can you move? No matter, I shall carry you, I—"

Talen grabbed him. "No, leave me here." Talen didn't want to move and his head was pounding.

"Sa'hidi, the Elenes are coming. Without you, I do not think we can live to crush them."

"Nyph, take on my form…and order a full retreat."

"But—"

"I'll be okay…you should know that." Nyph said nothing but nodded and left Talen's side.

Talen closed his eyes and wondered what he was doing. He couldn't move but perhaps he could escape another way. But he didn't care enough too. Something had unhinged inside him and he couldn't fix it. He looked up at Raven. But Raven wasn't there anymore. A great shining figure was and Talen caught hints of the boy, but everything seemed to be swimming. And after-affect he supposed. "What is your name?" He asked the once-Raven.

"Elohim" the figure replied.

"And you will stay with me?"

"Yes."

Talen closed his eyes and smiled.

He was still smiling when the Elenes found him and took him away.


	11. Immortality

Author's Note: Well, I suppose one can't apologize too much for the appalling lack of reasonably updates. However, rather than giving excuses, I will humbly ask your pardon and let you get to what you've been waiting for. After making it through several hard drive failures, writer's block, and years of no updates, I present the final chapter of Shadow Sorcerer.

Chapter 11

Immortality

Talen had not tried to break down the door, strangle the guards, dematerialize, or any other conceivable way of escape. He had the knowledge that he would not have been able to had he tried, and yet it was the knowledge itself that would prevent him from being able to do so. Knowledge, or a lack of will.

Talen had never thought of himself as a particularly emotionally frail person. He would never have thought himself mentally diseased, or prone to any form of depression. Despite his unfortunate upbringing he had been a rather happy child, prone to pranks and sarcasm. And yet here he was, lacking the will to move, to get up, to do anything. It was as though a raging fire had burned under him, bringing him to a boil, but now it was removed and he was as placid as an untouched lake.

It had only been two days since he had arrived…well, he didn't know where he was. In prison, in a small damp cell. Whether it was Cimmura or somewhere else he did not know. It hadn't smelled like Cimmura when they had led him blindfolded through the streets.

No one had come to see him yet, which was surprising. He had expected Aphrael or Sparhawk to storm up sooner rather than later. No matter, they would come. Talen wasn't sure whether he dreaded or anticipated this meeting. And then, he predicted, after the first meeting with Sparhawk, Aphrael would come to him alone.

Or as alone as Talen ever was these days. He could no longer see the god in front of him, or next to him just outside his peripheral vision. But Talen felt that presence near him, surrounding him. It gave the aura of holiness, of cleanliness, knowledge and gentleness. It was comforting, loving, and peaceful.

It was everything Aphrael never was.

Once again Talen smiled to himself. How in love he had been with that goddess and now….not anger, not remorse, but peace. But she would come. He knew she would come.

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The first of Talen's visitors came the next morning. Through his eyelashes Talen

saw the Pandion guards clank up and stand on either side of his cell door. He toyed with the idea of standing and looking very commanding for his royal visitors, but decided against it. That would merely make him look silly, a commander with no army, no backing, utterly alone. Delusional. No, instead he would show his power through insolence, veiled insolence. Let them wake him as servants would. Talen continued to feign sleep.

He heard Sparhawk's step followed by a lighter one, accompanied by the smell of the field. The barred door clanged open and the two entered. Talen opened his eyes very slowly and looked each of them in the eye. Sparhawk looked stern, Aphrael as Danae, worried. Talen stretched and raised his head to lean on his hand. He cocked an eyebrow.

The three of them remained so for quite some time. Sparhawk did not turn when he commanded the guards "Leave us." The guards trundled off without reply, but the three remained silent. Again, it was Sparhawk that broke the silence, although it was in a much softer voice.

"Won't you say something, Talen?"

Talen regarded him for a moment, and replied without the slightest mockery in his voice. "What is there to say?"

Aphrael looked away, but whispered "Why?"

Talen sat up and looked at her earnestly. "For the same reasons I gave you at the beginning. I struggled against the gods, against you, and unlocked powers I should not have had. In my search for meaning, for control, I found a cause I would be willing to head. For a long time I would not have died for it, but I felt strongly enough that I would devote my life to it. How odd, isn't it, that I would have died for you, but in the end fight not to devote my life to you."

Sparhawk coughed. "Talen, I understand what you fight for and why. I know why I fight against it. But Talen, why did you…." His voice broke. "Khalad, Berit, Dolmant…"

That took Talen aback. "Dolmant?"

"You sent your man to kill him, did you not? To entice us into war…"

Talen looked down. Dolmant had always been kind, always a friend. But then they all had, and some had been more than that. He said softly, "No. I would not have done that. That was not on my orders…you see we had a traitor in our midst, guiding events to his own ends." He looked up and smiled slightly in a smile that did not reach his eyes. "That is why I am here, you see. The fight ended because of him…"

"What are these ends? Is he anyone we need to be worried about?" Sparhawk looked worried now. "What is this man who opposes you?"

Talen leaned back and sighed. "He is dead."

"So we need not worry." Visible relief spread over Sparhawk's face.

"Not about him…but may I inquire of my own fate?"

Sparhawk's face turned serious one again. "We are in the Basilica's dungeons. There will be a trial of sorts, before all the Church heads. If you are found guilty, you will be executed."

Talen's eyes found Sparhawk's. His voice was steady. "And I am guilty. Very guilty. So be it.."

"You will not protest? Or try to get out of it? "Sparhawk seemed a bit stunned.

"What will they charge me of? Murder on two accounts, one of the Archprelate. Granted, I'm not guilty of that one, but how do I prove that? And then there's Treason, Heresy, witchcraft, on all accounts I am guilty. And you, Sparhawk, would you not have me die for what I have done?" Talen's voice was light.

"I would kill you myself were I ordered to, and yet…"

Talen turned away from him. The lightness disappeared and his voice threatened to break at he hurled his reply. "You are an insult to my brother! Do not be so undecided, so shallow. I am prepared to die, you must be prepared to kill!"

"No!" Aphrael's cry followed quick on his words. "What are you saying? Talen, you don't have to die! You can get out of here easily enough, if you are not willing than I can get you out. Don't throw your life away for a mistake you made!"

Sparhawk attempted to cut in, but Talen gestured at him to be silent and turned back to her, staring calmly, but not condescendingly, into her eyes. "So you speak at last, goddess. It wasn't a mistake. It was necessary. There are…things that I wished had not happened but…they were my choices….my very own, guided by my own beliefs."

"That doesn't make them right." Aphrael whispered,

Talen looked thoughtful. "You're correct. Just because I chose to do something of my own free will doesn't make it right. But it did accomplish a purpose…both a selfish one and something else for others.

"You refer to Rendor?" Sparhawk inquired.

"Yes. Unless they have been defeated already."

"No, they have not."

Talen looked at Sparhawk. "You know, if I were you, after they carry out my sentence, I'd get my troops out of there."

Aphreal broke in. "You don't even know what the sentence is going to be."

Talen rolled his eyes and his voice was cutting. "Don't be a fool, goddess. You know as well as I do what will happen. I have poured myself out, and my time is coming to an end."

Sparhawk was quiet for a moment. "Then you mean to be a martyr. Even now you are playing politics, religion and war."

Talen let a small smile crease his lips and he bowed his head slightly. "I am."

"Then you think your death will encourage the Rendors….to the point of frenzy. You think it will get worse."

"Yes. I warn you…but we both know there is little you will be able to do. The Archprelate is dead. The Elenes will not stop…and I think they will pay for the years they kept these people in bondage."

Sparhawk turned away. "And there will be nothing I can do…"

"Yes. There is nothing you will be able to do…so don't do anything."

"What do you mean?"

"At the trial." Talen replied. "Don't make things difficult for them. Don't be a voice of reason. Do your duty and avenge those I have killed in the court. You will help no one by trying to soften things."

Sparhawk looked straight at Talen. "I will do my duty. I suppose you are doing yours." He paused. "There is nothing more to say then. Goodbye, Talen. When next you see me, I will be Kahlad's avenger, and I will have never known you."

Sparhawk turned and stalked from the cell. Aphrael lingered until Sparhawk's sharp voice called her away. She gave Talen a last heart-stricken look and hurried after her earthly father.

Talen smiled a lay back down. Well, he was certaintly right about one thing; Aphrael would be paying him a visit.

* * *

Moonlight was streaming in from the one window of his cell. Talen was awake and waiting.

The worst thing about prison, he decided, was not the lack of a private toilet, or the food, or even the smell. It was the sheer boredom.

It seemed to Talen that there wasn't really all that much worth thinking about. He didn't have to be a prophet to know what was going to happen in his future. He would be taken before the Church Heads and charged with murder, one of the Archprelate. He would then be charged with heresy and witchcraft. He would plead guilty and then they would take him out and hang him, or burn him, or chop his head off. What was there to think about?

Talen had never really thought about dying before, and the times when he had been in a life-threatening position, he had left everything up to a certain amount of skill and chance. There was an odd sort of tightness in his stomach, but that was the only sign of nervousness.

Nervousness…he was going to die, and he merely called it 'nervousness'? Talen began to think of how else to describe his feelings when he heard the muffled clang of the door. He sat up quickly and smiled at Aphrael, parading in Danae's body. "I'm sorry goddess. I meant to be paying more attention."

"You knew from the start that I was coming." Her voice was flat and unsurprised, so unlike the first time...

"Yes…I knew."

She looked at him with a great sadness pooling in her eyes. "You won't…change your mind, will you? You know what's happened and even with that knowledge, I won't be able to convince you otherwise."

"That is more or less what it comes down to." His voice was tired, but had a light joking quality to it all the same.

Aphrael ran to him and threw herself into his arms. She sobbed into his chest as he lightly placed his arms around her. "I don't want you to die," she said through muffled sobs. "I love you…"

Talen held her tighter as her sobbing went on, but did not say a thing. There was nothing left to be said.

* * *

The Basilica was silent as Talen stood before the heads of the Church. His hands were bound in front of him, his back was arrow straight. The charges had been given days ago, the witnesses had had their say. Their accounts seemed fantastical and unreal, but Talen knew they were true. He had done those things, it just seemed a lifetime ago.

The acting Archprelate frowned down at him. "Talen, son of Kurik, formerly of the Pandion Order, what do you have to say to these charges and the witnesses of them?"

Talen's voice was strong as he replied. "Of everything but the murder of Archprelate Dolmant, I am guilty."

The hall resounded in murmuring. Talen waited for silence to resume. The acting Archprelate's frown grew deeper. "Can you prove your innocence of this?"

"No." the noise started to bubble up again, but Talen continued, forcing the court to silence. "But I thought I might as well say it, for the record. For everything else, as I said, I am quite guilty."

The Archprelate cleared his throat and addressed him once more. 'You have committed several of the gravest of crimes. You have murdered, you have practiced magic, you have incited rebellion, you have led a group of heretics and encouraged heresy. You have committed treason against the sovereign nation of Elenia. You have broken your vows concerning the Pandions. Are you aware of the penalty of each of these?"

"Yes, Your Eminence. Death, on all accounts."

"That is correct. The Church Court hereby sentences you to being hanged by the neck until dead."

There was no rustle of disbelief, and the silence held long after Talen was escorted from the Basilica.

* * *

Talen's new cell was smaller than his last, but much cleaner. The occupants didn't remain for long.

He had remained awake all night contemplating what was left of his life, what he had done, what he would leave behind. Talen had decided that it must be very rare for a person to die with no regrets. He had plenty of them.

He couldn't say that he would have done too much differently if he had to do it all over again. With hindsight, he of course wouldn't have trusted Elith, but then without Elith, Rendor would have stayed the same. Some things were worth sacrifice, the sacrifice of one's self and of others.

But why think of others at the moment? It was Talen that was the sacrifice now. Death was such an unknown…and yet it was obviously only permanent to an extent. He was frightened. Who would not be? The soul's flight into the unknown was the most terrible concept to think of, and yet how could he not think of it on the eve of his death? He wondered if Aphrael would want his soul.

It was at that thought that Raven's form of pulsating light shone before him. Talen dropped to his knees and shielded his eyes, crying out at the sudden light. A voice that was identifiable as Raven's and at the same time quite different from Raven's reprimanded his thoughts. "Your soul is mine, Wolf. You sought to free yourself from the grip of the goddess and you attached yourself to me. Trust me. I will take care of you."

Talen still could not look at the figure. "I don't deserve this of you, holy one."

The ageless voice paused, and then replied, "No, you do not. But I give you my gift of peace anyway." The light faded away, but Talen remained on his knees. Night brightened to dawn, and the rosy light streamed in through the small barred window. Talen looked at the light and saw it's beauty, but knew the beauty of his god's light outshone it. That light gave him peace.

Talen was still on his knees when the Pandions came to lead him to the gallows.

* * *

Danae clutched her skirt and wrung it in her hands. The Elene court was all present on one of the four great balconies surrounding the square that housed the gallows. There crowd below was loud with excitement and anticipation, but the balconies were eerily devoid of the normal emotions of hangings. The faces of those who had known Talen were pale and drawn, and those who hadn't known him were nervous because of the others.

The crowd erupted in to shouts and cheering as Talen was led from one of the doors. A path was guarded by the Pandions, and Talen was surrounded by one of each of the four martial orders in full plate mail and visors down. Talen was still dressed in the desert robes he had been captured in. His hair was lank and dirty, but he stood straight and as taller than seemed possible for one of his stature. His hands were bound behind him.

The crowd hissed and booed, heaving detritus at Talen through the escort. The guards made no move to protect Talen from the crowd. They were there to protect the crowd from Talen. Half-rotten fruit hit him from every side, and the juice ran down his face in a parody of blood.

One man lunged forward with a large stone and lobbed it at Talen. Danae threw herself to towards the railing and screamed his name. Talen twisted one shoulder and the rock sailed past. The crowd voiced their anger at him, and tried to rush forward, but the guards pushed them back. Talen would die, but he would die by the Church's justice and no other.

The march to the gallows was over quickly, and Danae watched through tear-filled eyes as Talen was led up the rickety stairs. He was placed over a trap door and the noose was fitted around his neck. She burst into loud choking sobs and felt Sparhawk's arms encircle her as the drum roll began.

* * *

Martel wasn't sure he actually liked being some messenger to the god, but he wasn't sure he could complain either. He wasn't dead, and he wasn't being tortured, so there wasn't too much to complain about in the first place. All he had to do was whatever Raven told him.

Normally Martel wouldn't have bothered obeying, Hell, even Azash didn't get that much reverence from him. But Raven _knew_ all that he had done, and had still taken him in. That required a certain level of deference, Martel decided. He certainly didn't have anything better to do.

His current job was to go find his former compatriot and let him see Talen die. Goody.

At least none of them knew about Martel's…semi-betrayal. After all, it wasn't as though he was trying to _help_ Sparhawk. He just had his own goals in mind. Well, it was over now, and they didn't know about it, so they wouldn't be giving him any grief about it.

He concentrated and coalesced into a solid body, almost thankful that he had been dead before this. He was familiar with not having a body; someone who had never experienced death would have had a much harder time navigating the physical world in spirit form.

He walked down the halls of the former abbey, where Nyph and Hiren had set up their headquarters. Where the provisional government of Rendor was housed.

When Talen was taken, Nyph had shattered. But the Rendors were used to lost causes, and they had seen what Talen had done when they had tried to kill him. There were no desperate attempts to recapture Talen, but the remaining rebels had moved with a vengeance against the Eosian forces. In a few short days they had taken more ground than in all the previous months combined, and oddly enough, more people joined them now than when they had Talen with them.

But while the Rendors managed to rise from Talen's capture, their new leader, Nyph, was a broken man.

Martel paused in the doorway and stared at the hunched form of Talen's first follower. He doubted what was to follow would give the bandit any relief. He cleared his throat and Nyph sprang to his feet, looking wildly about and his eyes widening in surprise when he say Martel. "We thought you were dead…" he murmured.

Martel smiled. "I am."

It was a testament to how far the boundaries of normality had been pushed that Nyph did not blanch.

"I am here as a messenger, an…" he paused with a wicked grin, " 'angel', if you will. Talen has been sentenced to death by the Elenes. I'm to bring you back with me, that you may witness his death."

Nyph dropped to his knees. "I…don't know what to think, what to feel." He whispered. "Should I hope or despair?"

Martel studied him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I do not know if Talen means to save himself."

Martel looked down, curiously reverent. "I think…Talen has resigned himself to what will happen…and I think that he is allowing himself to be used."

"Used!?" Nyph said with anger. "Who dares—"

Martel cut him off. "Love to hear it, old boy, but we really must dash if we're to see anything at all." He stepped closer to Nyph, put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not showing this to you to torment you. There is…something greater at work here."

He held onto Nyph and then they were gone.

* * *

Danae could hear the snap from her seat, without any amplification.

The crowd had gone oddly silent, and the body swayed, making the ropes creak. She felt as if every voice ever raised in prayer to her had fallen silent, that her heart had snapped along with Talen's neck.

And then there was collective inhale as a snow white raven descended from the sky and perched on Talen's drooping shoulder. There was a louder gasp when the bird began to speak.

"You have killed my prophet."

The crowd waited in a tense silence for the bird to continue.

"You have killed my prophet, but he went willingly to the slaughter, and so I will reward him. And you will know that there is a power to be reckoned with in him and his people. You will know that it is a god that inspires them, and a god who fights with them. Mine were a forsaken people, neither loved by your God, nor any other. You will see, you will witness, and you will know that should anyone move against my people, I will shake the very foundations of heaven with war, and my power will not be that of the gods alone, but of the people, and you will know fear. And defeat."

The raven cawed raciously, and then there was Talen, standing beside himself, dark wings folded gracefully behind him. The raven cawed again, and then Martel was on the platform on the other side of Talen's corpse, bearing wings as well. The crowd began to murmur in awe and fear. Danae glanced at the Churchmen's faces, seeing lips pressed thin and heads inclined as they murmured theology at each other.

She turned back to the scene and caught the raven's eye. With a final caw, the raven and his two winged followers disappeared.

Chaos erupted.

* * *

Sparhawk kept trying to comfort her, but Danae didn't want any comfort. There was too much going on, and too much she wasn't aware of. She expected to have guests when she returned to her rooms, and after she had spoken with them, _then_ she would have time to grieve. If any sort of grieving would be necessary.

When she pushed the doors to her suite open, she was rather surprised that no one was there, but she didn't have long to wait. Three figures appeared, one being sort of pushed into shape by the other two. When all three had coalesced, Talen looked rather less than amused by the difficulty he was having moving on the spiritual and physical planes.

Danae bit her lip and really looked at Talen. He was there, before her, and oddly enough he was closer to the boy she had known that at any other time she had seen him, all slightly awkward movements and boundless potential. His eyes sparkled again, and no longer with malice.

Danae looked then to the god, flanked on either side by angels. He still held his child's form, but unlike Aphrael, he never put on the air of a child. His eyes were ageless. "What shall I call you?" she asked.

"My name is Eloii." The god said. "But I think I prefer to be called Raven."

"Thank you, then, Raven."

The god bowed his head slightly. "I am glad to make you happy, goddess."

"Might I ask why you are here? I did expect to see you but…I do not know you, or your intentions." Danae said.

"We have come to say goodbye, goddess." Raven replied. "For now, at least."

Talen spoke then, pleasantly and without any real threat. "We have work to do, in Rendor. We would appreciate it if you would refrain from interfering."

Danae knew her smile was tinged with sadness. "Of course. I'll do what I can to get the Elenes to pull out as well. Talen…." She started, but didn't know exactly what she wanted to say.

He smiled, and suddenly the past was mended (not whole, of course, but the scars would fade, in time.) "I'm happy I'll get to see you, Aphrael. I'm not sure I'm cut out for immortality, but at least I have you to show me the ropes."

Danae grinned then, looked back at Raven for permission. The god nodded and Danae ran forward to throw her arms around Talen. He hugged her back and this time there were no dark undertones, no desire, no unspoken wants. They were friends, and suddenly, that was all Aphrael could want.

* * *

Hiren found Nyph on his knees, weeping.

"He's alive!" Nyph cried.

"Who?" Hiren asked, somewhat confused.

"Talen!" Nyph exclaimed.

Hiren pursed his lips. "Didn't we know that?"

Nyph shook his head. "But they killed him! I saw it!"

Understanding dawned on Hiren and he nodded sagely, a rueful smile on his face. "I see then." He glanced up. "So that's what you did."

Nyph narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Hiren sat down on the ground next to Nyph. "I haven't been completely honest with you." He said. "I take it you know by now that Raven is a god?"

Nyph seemed to think about that for a moment before nodding.

"He's the god of the Rendors, since they are not claimed by the Elene god. He's been waiting to take his rightful place among them. I am the replacement for Azash. There cannot be a vacuum, you see."

Nyph blinked in confusion and Hiren laughed. "I agreed to help him. So you see, you were never in any danger. You were surrounded by gods. And now, you'll lead these people. Nothing can stop us now." He paused as he got up from the floor. "You're going to have a hell of time working out the theology though."

* * *

"You're doing it wrong." Martel drawled.

Talen glared at him. "Well maybe if I had a decent teacher, I wouldn't keep making mistakes."

"Don't blame the teacher for your own inadequacies. It's not my fault you can't remember how you look well enough to get your face right."

"Oh, well, excuse me for not spending all my time in front of a mirror. And if we're bringing up inadequacies, we might take a look at a few of yours." Talen rolled his eyes.

Martel quirked an eyebrow. "Such as?"

Talen smirked. "The fact that you failed miserably at killing Sparhawk multiple times and through multiple lives."

Martel frowned. "That doesn't count. When gods are involved, it has nothing to do with your abilities."

"Doesn't count my ass! You---"

Raven smiled beatifically as he listened to his angel's squabbling. Eternity was a long time. He was looking forward to it.


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue

Sparhawk stared up at the fresco. It was dark and cool in the temple, a relief after the hot Rendor sun. Not for the first time did he thank all the Styric gods that he didn't have to wear his armor this time around.

Candles burned beneath the figures in the fresco, little bundles of flowers beneath them. It rankled a bit to see Martel honored, but Sparhawk did take petty delight in the fact that there were fewer offering underneath his likeness than the other two.

In the center of the fresco was the god, eyes old and expression enigmatic. His hands were outstretched, as if to welcome the masses. Sparhawk thought it was interesting that the figure now looked Rendorish, rather than half-Styric. It was the same god though, as evidenced by the white raven perched on his shoulder.

Two his left was Martel, identifiable by his white hair and matching white wings, two swords held in his hands. Talen was on the god's right, black hair and wings, holding a knife and a key. There were more candles under his image, but the god had by far the most.

"We tried to stop them." A voice said. "But you know how humans are. Hell-bent on screwing up theology."

Sparhawk whirled to see Talen and Martel. He didn't think to go for his sword, didn't need to.

Who would have thought, after all they had gone through, it would end like this? Sparhawk reached out his hand and Martel clasped it, something like the brother he had been. Talen smiled at him. "You did bring Danae, didn't you?"

"She's anxious to see you, although I can hardly bring her anywhere these days, now that she's taking on more and more responsibility back home."

Talen laughed. "She'll be a good queen, although I can't say I'm much of a fan of theocracy."

Sparhawk glanced back at the fresco. "Oh?"

"That's different." Talen murmured.

"Yes old boy, you'll have to look into the mythos surrounding our Talen; the angel of free will. Charming, no?" Martel smirked.

"And what are you?" Sparhawk asked.

Martel smiled. "The angel of death. Something about me dying twice and defeating death."

"It's the only way we can think to make it sound like Martel wasn't a total failure in life." Talen grinned, as Martel swatted at him.

"So, shall we accompany you back to your residence? I can't wait to see the old gang again." Martel said, voice heavy with irony.

"I'm sure they'll be just as eager to see you again too, Martel." Sparhawk rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, let's go so we can toast our new treaty." Talen said.

Sparhawk smiled. About damn time things started going right. He was too old for wars. Life owed him a few treaties to celebrate. "Just a moment." He said.

Talen and Martel watched him curiously as he took three candles out of his pocket and set them before the fresco. He struck with his flint and lit Talen's, then Martel's, and lastly, a candle for Raven. He stood back and looked once more at the fresco, scuffing one foot in the dirt and not knowing quite what to feel. The two angels stood on either side, also regarding the painting. Finally, Martel nudged him with his elbow.

"C'mon. Let me buy you a drink."

Sparhawk smiled ruefully and shook his head in sheer awe. The three of them set off towards the inn where the others were staying, two angels and the mortal father of a goddess. Sparhawk mentally shrugged. They had eternity to figure out the theology.


End file.
